Since That Cold November Day
by bubble-rouge08
Summary: [SMACKED] Stella was never the same since that cold November day she spent in Mac's arms. FIN.
1. Just to Listen

**_A/N: Just in time for the Holidays! Hello there, my SMACked friends! I am back bearing yet another story for all of you. I haven't been online much for the past week – busy with gift-wrapping and shopping. But I did get some time off to write this one._ **

_**I just got a new Apple MacBook and I have been feeling Carrie Bradshaw, writing late at night on my bedroom floor or bed, working on this new story. I do hope you guys will like this. So, I'll stop yapping and leave you to it.**_

_**Enjoy!

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**SINCE THAT COLD NOVEMBER DAY**

**©CATE**

_I know it's been some time  
But there's something on my mind_

A memo was passed around the lab last week. The department will host a party tomorrow to commemorate the comrades who died in the line of duty and the lives lost during terrorist attacks. It was pointed out in that memo that if you have lost someone close to you during those attacks, it's imperative that you attend that gathering.

Everyone lost someone at 9/11: a friend, a brother, a sister, a kid, a parent, a relative, a husband… _a wife._ As their lives are taken from them, their loved ones lives are taken with it.

From the moment I read the piece of paper, I threw it away. I will not and have no plans to go. All these years, I've been trying to forget… move on with my life. When I finally did, they're trying to make me remember. Is it enough that my first relationship in five years has just ended? Now they want to open old wounds?

I lost my wife on 9/11. _Claire._ Never did I imagine that when she walked out the front door that morning, it was the last time I would see her. We fought over a stupid thing the day before, made up that night and kissed goodbye as she ran late for work. The next thing I knew, they called all hands on deck at the World Trade Center. I saw the South Tower collapse right in front of my eyes. My wife was in that building.

I couldn't move from where I was standing. A cloud of soot and debris came right at me but I didn't run. Stella grabbed me and pulled me to safety. I wanted to run _to_ the buildings and try to look for Claire. But I knew in my heart that she's dead. I remember not letting go of Stella's hand while we waited for the surge to stop, while we carefully approached the damaged site, while seeing the bloodied body of my wife being wheeled away to the morgue. I was still holding her hand while I identified her up until her casket was laid on its final resting place.

I cried. I still do, sometimes. But Stella never did. Not one tear came from her eyes. She promised to be strong for me. _And she was._ Stella held me through the shaking, the sleepless nights, the grief until I was able to stand on my two feet again. She made me laugh again with her stubbornness and child-like demeanor at times. I knew she was also hurting but did a great job of somehow hiding it. Never fooled me though.

Right then, the woman I was thinking about helped herself inside my office with the same note in her hand. "Not going, I suppose?" she asked, flopping down on the couch. I shook my head. "I figured. Well," she said propping herself back up. "I'm not either."

"How come? It'll be a dress-up party," I asked her. She liked those kinds of events where she can wear evening dresses and all the make-up she wants… not that she needed much.

"Well if you're not going, I guess I won't be having a date," she simply said with a smile. "I hate not having that _extra_ accessory when I'm all dressed up." I looked at her with an eyebrow up. "You know, _arm candy_! Women can have them, too."

I chuckled. "Then why me?"

She leaned across my desk… her low-cut top sending dangerous messages. "We all know how nicely you clean up," she whispered with a wink. She exited my office humming an unknown tune. If I hadn't known her that well, I'd say she was flirting with me. But, no… Stella wouldn't do that.

That night, instead of going straight home, I visited Claire's grave. I was an unusually cold (colder than the usual November) night and I was the only one on the lot. I was thankful for the silence. I know, with this blanket of stillness, Claire could hear me better.

Once in a while, I would go here and just sit in front of her grave, with a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of red wine. Then I would talk to her about my day, as I would do when she was still with me. I know she will not respond, she wouldn't tell me what to do, she wouldn't hold my hand when I finally break down. I just want her to listen, wherever she is right now.

_I've been around enough to know  
That dreams don't turn to gold_

Just as I've suspected, Mac will totally ditch this department party. I know the chief added the 'if you lost someone' line to make him come. There have been two other events like this in the past. And ever since the first one, they have been making (hoping, actually) Mac would show. Everybody knows how hard 9/11 hit him. It almost killed him.

The chief begged me to make Mac attend last year's party. He said about giving him an award of recognition or something to that effect. And they were requesting him to speak at the said event. They wanted to applaud 'how Detective Taylor carried on, putting the past behind him and living his life again'. Yeah, something like that. If only they know how he got there… how _we_ got there.

Behind that strong front of professionalism is a very fragile Mac Taylor. For the past five years since he lost Claire, something has been eating at him. It's something he refuses to talk about up until now. I've been with him – beside him since the Towers fell. He never physically let go of my hand every time we're together. Even that… I don't know why.

I know he's trying to his that deep inside, he's vulnerable. Mac is used to be leaned on to and people rarely see him in his worst. _I have. _They all think that he doesn't need anyone – after the terrorist attacks, he's turned into stone. A shell maybe, but not stone.

Does he cry? Absolutely! Real men cry – and he's an example to that. He won't admit to it but I can count with both my hands and feet how many of my shirts he stained with his tears. He cries to me… but not _with_ me. He needs strength and in those times, I'm his strength.

I'd be lying if I say that I do not have 'more than friends' feelings towards Mac. I mean after all, we've known each other for ten years and I've seen him in his highs and lows. We have somewhat an intimate relationship – not in a physical degree though. There have been trivial flirting between us; and being a prude that he sometimes is, I'm sure he doesn't see it. But from my end, I get a kick out of watching him turn a tinge of pink.

When he left after shift that day, I knew where he's heading. He might come to me when he needs to talk out something. But when he needs someone just to listen, he goes to her… _Claire_. He'll have red wine or champagne, two glasses and a bunch of flowers with him and he'll sit by her grave all by himself, talking and drinking until the bottle's half-empty.

How did I know? Well, when he knows he's tipsy, I'm the first one he calls to drive him home. I found out early that I'm the first one on his speed dial. This has happened more times than there are numbers on a calendar. Those nights would end up with crying himself to sleep on the couch with some Mexican soap opera droning in the background. After I tuck him in… it'll be my turn to cry.

Just two weeks ago, he broke up with his girlfriend Dr. Peyton Driscoll. He called me, wanting to talk. It broke my heart hearing how he found it hard to give his all to the relationship while finding it easy to let her go. I couldn't tell him that it's true with every relationship he has. Plus, he's too blind to see the people who want to help him… _to be with him_.

I guess, I've known him enough to know that I'm not right for him. As a replacement for Claire. As his other half. He's too much for me and I'm not enough for him. Yet it seems as though I'm one of the important persons in his life. There isn't a special moment in his life that he spent without me ever since we met. And if that's all I'm getting, then I'm thankful for it.

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_By the way, I have a CSI:Miami question. **How old is Ray Jr. in season 5?** I have a Horatio/Yelina idea in my head. I can't wait to start on it but I can't until I have that information._

_This story is inspired by Whitney Houston's song "Where Do Broken Hearts Go"._

_**Happy Holidays and have a Merry 2007!**_


	2. I Am Not Stella

**_A/N: Hello! How was your Christmas? It was a bit boring for me. I cut my hair and got some new digs, ate a lot… just waiting for 2006 to roll out and 2007 to park and get comfy._**

**_Oh well, just as promised… SMEX. Before this year ends, I want to heat things up a notch. Please be advised that this is rated HARD T. PG-15. Don't sue me if you find this offensive. You have been warned. Hahahahha!_**

**_Okay, showers at the ready… GO!

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_Where do broken hearts go  
Can they find their way home_

_Back to the open arms  
Of a love that's waiting there_

Like he said, Mac ditched the party. When I was heading out, the chief cornered me and asked me why he was a no-show. I told him he has other plans even before the memo came by. I know the chief didn't buy it but it's the best that I could do. He also asked me why I wasn't going to attend.

Well, I never really lost someone in 9/11. I have no family that I know of and the only friend of mine who died in the towers is Claire Taylor herself. In a way, Mac and I lost the same person. The tragedy placed a huge scar in New York… _my city_. Yet my loss was nothing compared to the people around me.

When I think about it, I also lost someone. Mac was never the same after that. I guess that's my loss. After the chief let me go and my sorry excuses, my feet led me to Mac's apartment. There was still time for a very late dinner so before going in; I managed to buy us some mushroom burgers from the corner deli.

"Stella, what are you doing here?" he asked with a bottle of beer in his hand. He looked wasted as it is but still sober. "Come in, sit."

I did after handing him a burger and two packets of catsup. "Dig in," I said. "And for the record, everybody in the lab went to that party except for the two of us." He managed a small smile but I've seen that look before. "I guess, wallflowers like us need to stick together."

"You? Stella Bonasera? A wallflower?" he asked with a chuckle, taking another swig of beer. He gave me a bottle and noticed a few twelve-packs under the coffee table and several empty bottles on top of it.

I glared at him and laughed. "You'd be surprised, Taylor. I survived my senior prom collecting their votes for king and queen. Nobody gave me the light of day especially back then… the time of blue eyes and _straight_ blond hair."

Mac was starting to slur his words. He placed his arm around me and said, "If I'd known you back then, Stell – you wouldn't be ignored." I smiled at that. "After all, I have a thing for women with curly hair," he added, twirling a strand of my hair on his finger. "I find them sexy."

As much as it felt oh so good, it was uncomfortable. Mac was never like _this_ with me. Sure we were close… but I know how affectionate Mac feels vs. a drunk Mac Taylor. The latter is untested grounds, even for me.

I heard a clatter of glass and a fizz of beer in the background. His stereo was playing some random jazz CD. A clank of the beer cap snapped me out of my reverie. His arm was back around me and after a long gulp of his drink, I felt his face against my hair, nuzzling. "Coconut," he whispered after taking a whiff. He placed his _tenth_ beer bottle on the table and his other arm rested itself on my knee.

"Mac, maybe we should…" I said inching away from him, "…stop." I haven't touched my drink in my hand but unexplainable emotions were making me drunk and dizzy. I have to stop if his drunken self would not. "Mac please…"

He said nothing when I pushed him away. Instead he leaned closer to me and buried his face back in my hair. "Coconut," he repeated. His arms were fully around me now in a sideways hug. His hands were traveling up and down my arm. I froze when I felt his lips against my ear, sucking my earlobe and earring between his lips. Those lips followed my jaw line and he started planting kisses dangerously close to _my_ lips.

"Mac… you're drunk," I said trying to pry his arms away but with no avail. He started kissing my neck and lifting my shirt up slightly. His fingers were drawing small circles on the skin he's uncovered on my waist. "Please, Mac. You don't know what you're doing. I don't want you to do something you'd regret." I was at the verge of crying. If this was to happen between us, I don't want it to be in these circumstances.

He said something that came out as a mumble. "I always knew you love coconut," he slurred when he came up to take a breath. His lips were back on my cheeks and chin, my neck and dangerously down to my cleavage. Believe me, I tried pushing him away but my strength left me. Mac's hands traveled up my back, to my bra clasp and the next thing I felt was my breasts being free from their restraints. He managed to pull the article of clothing from under my shirt and onto the floor. What a day to wear strapless.

I was about to cry out in protest when my vocabulary was replaced by pleasure from Mac's tongue on my nipple against my shirt. The moan that was trying to escape all along finally exited my lips but a bit of sense still stayed with me. "Mac… no," I moaned as his hand paid equal attention to my other breast.

He sat back up and took my face in his hands. I thought he sobered up and will apologize for his actions but what he said instead, shocked me. "What's wrong, _Claire?_ You haven't missed me enough, sweetheart?" he said in his drunken stupor, stroking my hair and the small of my back. "I need you right now. Please, I've waited long enough." He gently pushed me against the couch and whispered, "You said you wanted a baby. Then, I guess it's time for us to make one, Claire."

I froze on the spot. He was calling me 'Claire'. Man, he's really wasted. But I wasn't. And I could stop this before anything we can regret happens. When I opened my mouth to speak, he silenced me with a hard kiss and his tongue was pursuing mine. A sudden gush of heat in my panties made me aware of how out of control we both are of the situation. It was like an out-of-body experience for me.

I felt… more like _saw_ – myself under Mac, his mouth on mine and his hands fully cupping my breasts. Somehow, he managed to lift my shirt up to my neck. I was powerless to resist his ministrations; my brain was screaming no but my body was reciprocating his every stroke, nip, suck, kiss, and thrust. "Claire…" he moaned, rubbing his obvious erection against my thigh. "I've waited for so long…" I had my eyes closed from the pleasure but I could hear the sound of the zipper unzipping and a shuffle of clothes following.

The next thing I knew, I was thrown onto a bed in a dimly lit room with red wallpaper. Even in that situation, the CSI in me was alive. I moaned when cold silk touched my back and a sweaty naked chest pinned me on the soft mattress. It didn't surprise me at all that I was unclothed. _Mac was too_; I froze again when I felt his bare arousal against my stomach. Again, my mind was yelling at me to stop this, get dressed and go but my body is telling me that I wanted this. _We both needed this._

Mac was very gentle, even in his drunken condition. He kept on stroking my skin with his fingertips, followed shortly by his lips on a trek down my body. I know that he's seeing and feeling and calling out to Claire… not me, _Stella._ He stopped at my breasts and laved at them for a moment before continuing his way down. I know this is wrong but it felt so good. I was moaning his name in soundless syllables at his every kiss and suck.

He spread my legs and I complied, watching him with half-lidded eyes. Right then, I decided that if this is how I could make him forget his horrors, then one night wouldn't hurt. Tonight, I'm not Stella Bonasera. _I'm Claire Taylor._ I willed myself not to get hurt even if I know I will be. I told myself that I also wanted this – to be with Mac like this. That only served to heighten my pleasure and willingness.

Mac's strokes were measured, precise. He made sure that he didn't hurt me… kissed me when I wince or stiffen. He made me reach my peak twice even before asking permission to enter me. And when he did, I forgot I was pretending to be Claire. His gentleness brought tears to my eyes. _I couldn't believe I am doing this!_ I kept my lips against his or his shoulder to avoid waking up his neighbors. He was that good.

"Oh, right there…" I moaned against his neck when he hit a sensitive spot. His left hand was busy with my breasts and his right was on my love button. He knew how to put me on the edge and pull me right back, prolonging our pleasure. "Mac… please," only this time, my 'please' meant another thing. "Faster…"

"Claire, sweetheart," he moaned back as his thrusting became erratic, falling out of the comfortable but frustrating rhythm we were practicing. I responded with the same fervor at his moans and drives. "Oh… baby, I love you…Claire!" escaped his kiss-stung lips right when he stiffened and I felt wet heat inside me.

My body went cold. My hands fell lifelessly from his shoulders, my legs from his hips. He stilled as I felt his erection slip from me and he rolled on his side fast asleep. His soft snores confirmed that the alcohol… and probably the _sex_… wore him out. I didn't even look at him. It still felt that my body was just a shell, devoid of a soul. My hand was like a robot traveling down to my center and the wetness that welcomed my fingers confirmed my greatest fear. We had _unprotected sex._ No condom... and I wasn't on the pill.

It all went so fast that I forgot to remind him of protection. From his touches on the couch, I should've seen this coming. I could've wiggled my way out of the situation easily if only I was strong enough… strong enough to say no to comforting Mac in any way, to not letting it go to this. I was guilty of one thing: _I wanted this_ for the longest time. I wanted to be in bed with this man since I met him.

"Do I regret doing this?" I asked myself as tears fell from my eyes and down to the pillows. I don't know. Everything is such a blur and all I could remember at that moment was his face in the throes of passion. Even here, he dreamt of Claire. I guess this will hurt more tomorrow – when all things are said and done and we'll be back into our normal lives.

"Can I face Mac tomorrow?" I asked again turning towards him and pulling the blanket over his waist. Evidence of our lovemaking stained both our thighs and the bedding. It's hard enough to face him now; he's sleeping and I couldn't even look at his face. Tomorrow is another day… _another story.

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	3. Not her

_**A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for all the reviews on the rather racy previous chapter. Lol, trust me, it is still T-rated. Hahahaha! So far, so good ei?**_

_**Geez, the alerts suck right now. I missed a lot of new chapters from my favorite stories. But it's okay; at least I have a lot of reading material to go through.**_

_**Well, I hope this little story of mine is in your reading list. Thanks and enjoy!

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_And that there is no easy way  
No you just can't run away..._

I haven't opened my eyes yet but my head is pounding in pain. I can't lift my head off my pillow and the slight draft felt like needles against my chest. And… my lower back is somewhat aching. But surprisingly, it's a good pain.

When I finally cracked my eyes open, I found out that the blinds where open to let the sunlight in – something that I don't do. The blanket is just up to my waist and I almost fell off the bed when I realized that I was naked. I couldn't move my legs and the throbbing in my head worsened as the reality set in. Who was I with? How long were we together? Where is she now?

Starting with my first question, I tried my hardest to remember the previous night. Who was I with? I half-expected that it's Peyton since she's the last woman that I was with. She had a key to my place and I might've called her up – for company last night. What I was sure of is that I was drunk. Halfway through the movie on HBO, Liv Tyler started to look like Queen Amidala. I probably spent fifteen minutes trying to piece together the previous night but nothing came back to me until I turned over to my side, the other side of the bed.

Right then, the 'Mac Taylor CSI' took effect. The spot looked like it was slept upon recently. That made sense since I've established that I had sex the night before. I leaned over and spotted a single strand of curly brown hair resting on the pillow. I saw this strand before and many others like it. My blood ran cold in my veins; but I had to make sure.

I knew about _her_ love of coconut shampoo, one of the things she has in common with my late wife. One whiff on the pillow next to mine and I prayed that the whole world around me collapses. No… not her. I prayed that last night wasn't true. The hair, the coconut scent and the – open blinds (she always complained that I have forgotten that window blinds actually let in light). _I had sex with Stella Bonasera last night_.

My hands were shaking and my eyes were tearing up. No… I couldn't. _We couldn't have_. I launched myself out of bed and managed to find my discarded boxers beside my bedroom door. There was a trail of my clothes all the way to the living room. I guess that's where the party started.

I figured that if I were this messy with my clothes, I wouldn't bother with the trash bin either. Armed with the tiniest sliver of hope, I went down on all fours to look for an opened condom wrapper or a used condom on the floor… anything that would hint that we practiced _safe sex_. Under the bed, under the sheets, under every furniture, in the drawers, in the trashcan, everywhere. I leaned against the bedpost and berated myself. I didn't find any.

Now, I'm not worried that I put Stella and I at risk of illness. I am clean and I'm sure she is, too. I was never a religious man but for the third time that morning, I prayed – prayed that Stella is on birth control even if I know that she's not seeing someone. She's a very careful person and I hope she's careful when I wasn't.

But what if… _she wasn't either_? My knees gave out from under me and I was a shaking heap on the floor. Twenty years on the job and still, I gave in to the alcohol and forgot about what's beyond the bottle. I cannot forgive myself if something bad happens to Stella. I let my control down for one night and this ensued.

My ringing phone forced me to stand up. With wobbly legs, I reached my phone and sat on the bed. "Mac, where in the world are you?" Danny almost screamed from the other line. "Everybody's been tryin' to reach ya for the last thirty minutes. What happened, lost yer cell phone of sumthin'?"

"Uh…" I muttered, still trying to beat the hangover and the shock over everything. "No, just uh, a nasty night. What do you got?"

He sighed and answered, "Double. All hands on deck, the chief ordered. Fresh off the party, the barmaid found a pro and a police officer dead in a limo parked in the back alley." I could hear the crackle of his notepad and he continued, "Officer Arthur Jenkins, has two little girls and a widow. Lost his first wife in 9/11 so he was in the party. The pro was known only with her alias Mayami," he spelled it for me.

"Okay, I'll be there. Twenty, tops," I said, pulling out some fresh clothes from my closet and still trying to get my bearing. A cold shower could do it.

"Good. And while you're at it, pick up Stella from wherever she is," he said before clicking off.

Wait… Stella's not there? Where is she then? Out of impulse, my fingers dialed her number. Then I remembered (somewhat) last night. I can't talk to her yet. Talking to her about it over the phone wouldn't be right.

But would it be easier to talk to her face to face? Would it make me feel better? What would I say to her? It's funny how alcohol can complicate things. The fact that I do not remember anything makes it harder. She probably stayed sober for my sake but still… I hope I wasn't forceful with her. If I were, then I would never forgive myself.

After my very cold shower, getting dressed and a sorry excuse for breakfast, I found out just how drunk I was. Only one bottle was left unopened in the twelve-pack I bought. Ten were empty, one was opened but untouched. Stella did stay sober. I probably opened the door, I was already drunk so when I offered her a bottle, she took it but didn't join me with my episode.

For the first time in a long time, I wanted to cry because of something unrelated to Claire. I felt the same kind of guilt I felt back then. I know I hurt Stella and I owed her an honest explanation. The problem was, I don't know what to say. Would she listen? She probably wouldn't accept a simple 'I'm sorry' after what I did.

I was too deep in thought that I told the cab driver to take me to 'Stella' instead of the NYPD crime lab. "Sir, I'm sure you can find yourself to where your girlfriend is later today," he said when I corrected myself. "But right now, off to New York's finest we go."

I didn't have the heart to correct him on that. I didn't have a girlfriend (anymore) and Stella – well… I hope last night didn't get between our friendship. I'm afraid of the impending conversation with her. I'm scared that maybe she wouldn't listen and would just send me away. There's no easy way to face what happened. Only wishful thinking.

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_ath3ns – lol, yeah… I'm cruel. And it frustrates me too._

_vipercharmed – hey, sorry I couldn't email you yet. But I will._

_mercy4vr – thanks! I do try to get what Stella, as well as what Mac is feeling. I mean, the way their on-screen rapport is so natural that it's so easy to put into writing._

_Reine – oh we all know what's coming! Hahahahahah!_

_mj0621 – oist! Napanood ko na yung first 8 episodes ng season3 and I swear…. Grabe na to! Napunta ako bigla sa angst-city. Hindi ko feel si Peyton. Oh well… hahahaha!_

_Btw, Saddam Hussein is dead. 'Nuff said._


	4. Sex Complicates Things

**_A/N: Sorry this part took too long. School's back and right away, I have a lot of things in my hands already. Don't worry; I'll be keeping up, I promise._**

**_I'm so happy because a lot of you loved the previous bit. Personally, this part is better hahahaha! I love writing in Stella's POV. But I'll let you be the judge of that._**

**_This chapter is hard T because – I have language problems hahahaha!

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_And what we have is so much more  
Than we ever had before_

I had to get out of Mac's bedroom as fast as I could. I hardly got any sleep after we… well… take a pick: had sex, made love, tumbled on the sheets, copulated, had sexual intercourse, bonked, did it, sleep together, mated, went all the way, got it on, ravished each other, fornicated… heck, _fucked._ Yeah, that's right!

_I hardly got any sleep after we fucked last night._ I just stared up at the ceiling, listening to his occasional snores and feeling all the fluids on and _in_ me dry. I couldn't remember if and when I stopped crying. I didn't even bother wrapping the blanket around myself. What little sleep I had, I got it on top of the covers while Mr. Taylor slept like a baby, sated and fulfilled.

I left at around sun-up. I don't know what time exactly; I got up, put on my clothes as I collected them (underwear by the hallway, pants in the adjacent dining area, shoes and shirt and bra in the messy living room where it all began). I turned off the TV that we left running for the whole night. And I also took the liberty of making him a batch of coffee for his inevitable hangover. Without looking back, I left his apartment straight to mine.

Originally, I had no plans of going to work today. Facing him – knowing that he knows nothing and I know everything – would be the death of me. After taking a much-needed shower, I received a call out from PD. All hands on deck. Yeah, yeah… officer down, found with a hooker. It's not that I ignored the call; I simply was not in the mood to help out on a hooker case especially after last night. I don't think I can keep my mind off of it.

I was sore for a while. It was a welcomed sore; it's been a while since I've done something like that. Although the circumstances around our activity wasn't ideal, we got what be both needed… _wanted_. We were consenting adults: one was under the influence; the other was intoxicated with lust and want. He loved the person he _thought_ was with and I... well, I love the man I _know_ I'm with.

I headed over to the lab anyway. It was empty of all the crime scene investigators and some of the lab technicians. Good, I had the locker room for myself. I spent a good thirty minutes talking to myself, practicing what I might say to Mac when I finally face him. But I never thought it would be soon.

I heard footsteps coming from behind me. The sounds stopped and then continued to the locker in front of mine. _Mac's_. "Hey," he said opening his locker and shuffling around for his service weapon.

"Hey," I said back without looking at him. His voice sounded tired, as if he was crying. I could feel his eyes boring holes onto my back. Speaking of backs, I remembered the last time I cut my nails. "How's your back?" I asked him.

He sat down beside me and answered, "Huh? Are you implying that I'm old, Stella?" he joked. "My back is doing well, thank you very much."

"Well, if last night was any indication, Mac," I looked at him without eye contact, "you're _not_. What I meant was," I trailed off, showing him my nails.

Mac stayed silent. He took my hands in his and started _that_ conversation. "Stell, about… about last night…"

The tears that started to form told me that I don't have enough strength yet for this discussion. "Don't worry about it," I said a bit forcefully, pulling my hands from his. I subconsciously pulled my button-down shirt closer together. "You were drunk and you didn't know what you're doing."

Again, he remained silent. He had a faraway look in his eyes and he carefully loosened my hands on my shirt. This right hand reached up and soothed a spot on my neck. "I'm sorry," he whispered, running his fingers from that spot to another on below it. Those were only two of the eight hickeys he gave me. "I'm sorry," he repeated lifting my chin up to meet his eyes.

"I said don't worry about it," I sighed, looking away yet again. For a split second there, I thought Mac was going to cry. "You were inebriated and…" And what?

Why is it so easy to succumb to such sinful activities but so hard to talk about it? I've always thought that it would be easy to talk to Mac – but if he's also involved, the difficulty goes up tenfold.

"It's no excuse for what I did," he said closing his eyes and wiping away a tear. "I feel so guilty, Stell. Please forgive me. I regret having to lose control like that." I could see how wrecked he is.

"Hey Mac," I said getting his attention. "Do you remember anything?" He stared at me for a moment and shook his head. Just as I've suspected. His hands started shaking and if we're not at PD in about 30 minutes, the chief'll have our hides. So I decided to insert some humor to abruptly end our conversation. "Now, that's something you should regret."

"What?" he asked looking up and arching his eyebrow.

I walked to my locker to holster my gun and badge and said, "That fact that you don't remember anything… too bad, Taylor." The look on his face was priceless. "And before you even ask," I held up my wrists, "you were as gentle as a breeze." His eyes softened and he blushed a bit.

He stood up and said in a barely audible voice, "I just don't want you to feel…" he paused and I swear he said it although I didn't hear it right, "_used_." He said that he'll be waiting in the car for me and left me standing there, cold as winter.

I know he meant well when he said that. I saw and felt how sorry he was. But truthfully, I _did_ feel used. But did I regret it? No; I _let_ myself be used. "I'll try," I said to myself as I followed him to the car.

On the way there, I could still feel the tension between us. I guess we just have to face the reality that our relationship will never be the same again. If we were much younger, maybe we could laugh about it and forget it happened. But at our age, would we lie to ourselves? Sex complicates things. We had sex. A younger woman would tell me it's not that big of a deal – but this is Mac, my untouchable best friend.

When Claire was still alive, the three of us would go out to dinner twice a month. They were my only family in New York. The information that he's married made it easier for me to forget that I was attracted to the man. They were always together after their jobs but there are weeks and some months when Mac is more with me that with her. But still, the gold band on his finger makes me remember that there are barriers between us.

When she died, both of us were crushed. Mac's spirit went with her. I was there for him when he needed it the most – which was all the time. Everybody in our department at that time thought we were sleeping together; that I took the opportunity to step in where Claire left off. I never gave those rumors the light of day but Mac stood up for me and he demanded that we transfer precincts.

At the back of my mind, I hoped those rumors come true. But Mac was my friend and I'd kill myself first before I act out those thoughts, especially when he was still grieving Claire. I've hoped that somehow, he'll fall for me as I've fallen for him but he never did. And that part hurts the most.

Such a tragedy made it difficult for me to cross the line from being just a friend to his other half. I don't want him to feel that he's replacing Claire – too fast or with the wrong person. I wanted him to choose and prayed that he'd pick me. But sadly, I'm just his partner. _His best friend_. I decided it's best if I stayed by the sidelines and see him at arm's length.

It's been almost six years. He's moved on somewhat and I've had my life. Sometimes I wonder what if Claire is still here with him. I would've stopped flirting with him, Peyton wouldn't have broken his heart, we wouldn't have had sex. Things would be less complicated. It won't change the fact that I do love Mac Taylor… from afar.

* * *

_mercy4vr – well, this is how Stella felt. I hope you liked it!_

_Reine – yeah, Mac did find out early. Just goes to show how much of Stella he knows and sees everyday._


	5. Talk But Don't Touch

**_A/N: Guys! How's the first week of 2007? Thanks for reading and reviewing my fic. I really appreciate every hit, every review and comment._**

**_Thanks for adding me on your Favorites list and Alerts, no matter how much it sucks right now. Thanks for hunting it down. Gosh, I don't think I can enumerate enough things…. Just thanks a bunch!_**

**_I hope you like this chapter – yet another Stella-centric piece.

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_**

_You see, I haven't been the same  
Since that cold November day..._

A month has passed since that little big episode of ours. Christmas is in two days and we're knee-deep in work. Busy New Yorkers don't only include shoppers and sellers. Apparently criminals too are out and about during the holidays. They're probably taking advantage of the heavy volume of people on the street to commit petty crimes. Or maybe because people are out of their houses, doing their shopping, break-ins gone bad and robberies are rampant too. Either way, it's a very busy season.

My relationship with Mac settled back to 'normal' in a few weeks. We never talked about it and he sort of forgotten already. Easy for him to do so – he never did remember anything at the first place. But I did. Every single touch, kiss, stroke – every detail of it was still fresh in my mind every time I look at him.

I still feel comfortable around him; it's still the same Mac and Stella to anyone around the lab. We still go out for coffee and booze at Sullivan's every after shift. The only thing that changed between us is that I don't want him touching me. The touch of his skin is like needles on mine and his warmth spreads like wildfire in my body. It's an unspoken rule between us – _we talk but no touching_.

He forgets it sometimes. He'll be placing his palm on the small of my back when guiding me through the door, taking my hand longer than necessary when helping me up, or tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I know that he noticed the way I jerk away when he does it. And I don't miss the hurt look on his face when I turn away.

One time in the break room, I decided to take a little nap. It was my break anyway. I shut my eyes and time flew. The next thing I knew, someone was looming over me, hand on my shoulder shaking me awake, calling my name. "Stella, wake up. Break's over," the male voice said. I opened one eye and I almost toppled the couch over at my surprise. Mac was kneeling at the side of the sofa with his hands up like surrendering. "Sorry," he said with a chuckle.

I should stop thinking about _that_. I guess I'm just overreacting to the situation. In fact, I got literally sick from the stress it brought upon me. I took a week-off to rest it out and some vitamins and a better diet but I still was feeling sick. And one more thing… I missed my monthlies. I chalked it up to stress on the first week it didn't show. The second week, I thought I had a bad diet. But I had a feeling of what the true reason was.

Danny and I were working a scene, which took almost ten hours to process. On the way back to the lab, I offered to get something from a convenience store – chips and water for Danny and _something else_ for me.

"Stella Bonasera is allowing me to eat in the car," he chuckled while giving me a twenty. "I have to tell everyone about this!"

"Yeah, yeah, Messer," I said, taking it from him and opening the door. "You deserve the break anyway." I went inside the store and got his chips, water and a pack of gum. Before I went in line at the counter, I sidled over to the connecting drugstore and discreetly bought, "three home pregnancy testing kits please. Three different brands."

The pharmacist named Jenna smiled at me and my obvious attempt to be subtle. "Couldn't trust just one brand, could you?" she whispered back, placing the items in an opaque paper bag. "Good luck," Jenna said after giving me my change. For show, I added two boxes of cookies in with the kits.

Back in the car, Danny just ate and ate and thanked the traffic. I handed him a box of cookies and I joined him. The kits were safely hidden away under the backseat. At least the oatmeal cookies kept my mind off the little project that I had to do later today. When we arrived at the lab, I instructed Danny to share the other box of cookies with the rest of the team and I went to the women's bathroom to face my task.

I managed to get the largest stall, the one for the wheelchair-bound. I needed all the breathing space that I could get. I thought about it a lot – is it logical that I'm going to do this? Or am I just scaring myself silly? I mean it's possible that I am indeed pregnant but it is also likely that I'm in over my head. But I had to be sure, unless I'm going to lose it.

All three boxes said to wait for a minute and a half before checking the results. I sat on the toilet and placed the little tubs on the tank behind me. My hands were sweating and my lips would've bled if I continued to chew on them. I thought about, I don't know, counting how many ants were walking on the wall – anything just to get my mind off the things behind me. I knew at least three or so minutes have past but I still didn't look.

There was a knock on the door that startled me. It was Lindsey. "Hello there, Stella," she said in a singsong voice. "You've been in there for at least seven minutes. What's up?"

"How did you know it's me?" I said from behind the door. I scrambled to dispose of the tubs, careful to take the sticks with me in a plastic bag.

"I saw you come in about five minutes ago and I was here for another two or three minutes," she explained. "I spilled something on my pants and checked it out. And you? _Expecting something?_"

Uh-oh. She didn't say what I thought she did. "Uh… no, Lindsey," I managed to chuckle. "Mr. Movement comes later today. Not now."

I could hear her laugh heartedly, getting my joke. "Ah I see. So not _expecting_, huh?"

There she goes again. I just had to stall her. "No… no. Say, Lindsey – can you tell Danny that I'll be taking a break for a while. I need to… uh, find something."

"Alright then, Stell," she said cheerfully. "Take care in there. See you around!"

When she finally left me alone, my hands went numb yet again. The plastic bag felt like a bag of rocks, heavy with my fate resting on the results they have. The three kits were similar in presenting their findings. Two parallel blue lines for positive and one red line for negative.

Nothing could ever prepare me for the next five minutes that was coming. I picked up the first stick that I could touch and… it was _positive_. One out of three said I'm pregnant. I picked up the pink one and… it showed the same result, _positive_. Two of the three told me that I have a bun in the oven. Should I look at the third one when I have an idea what it will inevitably tell me? I did anyway and three out of three, it's confirmed. _I am with child._ Mac's child.

I didn't need to count back to when I conceived. That November midnight, in his bedroom, on the same bed he shared with Claire. I collapsed against the stall door to my knees. I held the tests in my hand and close to my heart. Mixed emotions ran through my head… I'm happy that I'm not alone anymore – I have family. But I was scared… I was scared of how Mac will react to this news and I was afraid that I might be going through this all by myself. Tears were running freely down my cheeks. I needed to get out of here.

I hid the test sticks in my coat pocket until I reached my locker. There, I placed them at the bottom of my bag, never to see the light of day again until they end up at City Dump. I stared at my reflection on the little mirror I mounted on my locker door. Subconsciously, my hands traveled down to my still flat tummy, imagining how I would look like a few months from now. At that moment, I was happy that I was pregnant. I looked at how I smiled – I was really happy.

"I love seeing you smile like that," a man said from behind me. Oh no, not now, not you. I looked at Mac from my mirror, smiling back at me. "Something good happened?" he asked, turning away and opening his own locker.

I couldn't stop smiling even if I haven't digested the breadth of my current situation yet. "You bet," I said gleefully.

"Really?" he replied, closing this locker and facing me. "Care to share?"

My lips still curled upwards but I felt that my smile faded. He sat down and waited for my reply. Mac has this trait of keeping quiet at the same time looking so intimidating. But now is not the right time. I have yet to process things before I could share this to anyone… _to him_.

"Not really," I said with a giggle to mask my apprehension. "I think I'm entitled to a few secrets myself, Mac."

He laughed and scratched the bridge of his nose. "Fair enough," he said. "But whatever – or _whoever _it is that makes you smile like that is bound to be known one way or another." He left the locker room with no other words.

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_mj0621 – oist, okay lang. Ako nga itong dapat mag-sorry eh. Tagal ko nang wala sa YM. Busy kasi eh. Hahaha, busy pero nagagawa ko pa ito. Lol! As for season3, ay hindi sa April pa yung talagang airing. Kaso nakakuha ako ng copy ng episodes 1 to 8. Hanggang dun lang kay Reed. Oh diba at least hahahaha!_

_PenguinGoddess – lol, I LOVE penguins! Hahaha, anyway, I try not to go overboard with the angst even though I want to. After all, it's Mac and Stella – so close yet so far away._

_napafun – oh, we'll just see if he does remember hahahah…_

_Reine – yeah, poor Stella. But she's a strong woman. She can handle anything… for Mac._

_Pachuco – hey! No problem on the English. It's not my first language either but I get by. Yeah, a lot of SMACked stories do have a pattern. But sometimes it goes out of character if they loved each other right away. So I base my fics on the obvious rather than what we shippers really want to happen. The obvious being their friendship which is clearly seen on the show._

_Mandi – hahaha, thanks for hunting the story down. It really means a lot to me._

_mercy4vr – thanks so much!_


	6. Double Meanings

**_A/N: Hey! Still there? It's been about a week or two since I've updated. Something came up and I wasn't able to go online. And I apologize for posting such a short chapter. I'm stuck in a rut lol._**

**_Anyway, thanks for reading and please review. Thank you!

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_**

Why is it that everything that they say seems to have double meanings to me? First it was 'expecting something' and now what Mac said. And both of which are true. I was expecting something and I only had a few weeks to hide it.

It was easy to hide it for the first seven weeks or so since I'm very lucky not to have morning sickness. I wasn't even queasy or nauseous. But I took the precautions of sitting chases out and avoiding excessive exposure to some of the chemicals I'm working with. I also quit coffee cold turkey and opted for apples to stay awake. Any kind of alcohol is out of the question too. I also told Danny and Flack not to smoke whenever I'm near them.

Of course there were a lot of questions because of my sudden change in routine. But nothing that I could go around from. I'm still grappling with the idea that I'm eating for two during meals, that there's a life inside little ole me, and that I'm keeping this huge secret from my colleagues. Keeping confidential details of a case from the outside world is easy enough but this… something as personal a secret as this eats at you. Especially if you see the father of your child everyday.

I would talk to my baby in my alone moments: in the car, at night before going to bed, in the shower, during my weekly two-hour soak. I love him/her already. My doctor said that I'd be able to feel small movements in my tummy. And right now, I'm craving maraschino cherries; I have a stash in every room in my apartment and in the lab's break room.

At the start of my fourth month, I noticed a visible bump on my tummy whilst I was changing for work. I opted to wear a loose-fitting shirt. And on that same shift – I was working with Lindsey – we managed to have ourselves doused in mud and blood from our DB. Only then did I realize that my change of clothes in my locker were still the tight-fitting clothes I used to wear everyday.

"How am I supposed to get the blood off that shirt?" Lindsey said, pulling on a pink blouse. "I mean, that's new and I have no time to shop for another. Stella…" I was waiting for her to continue but she didn't. When I looked up at her from where I was sitting, her eyes were fixed on my tummy.

"What?" I asked annoyingly.

"Oh nothing," she smiled. "Geez, and I thought cherries won't make you fat. Stella, you've gained weight." I let go of the breath that I was holding. But it was too soon. Lindsey's smart – and she's a woman. "Unless…" she started; her hand flew to her mouth and she almost lunged at me. "Stella, are you…?" she whispered.

I closed my eyes in defeat. I can't hold this secret any longer. I had to tell somebody. She sat beside me and took my hand in hers as tears started to form in my eyes. I guess that's her answer but I know she needs to hear it. "At least thirteen weeks."

"Oh Stella, congratulations," she said giving me a warm hug. "So that's why you've stayed away from coffee all of a sudden," she realized. "We were all scared; we thought the coffee's poisoned or something when you quit drinking it." We laughed and she hesitantly continued, "May I ask… who's the father?"

I hate that in this situation, _that_ is always the first question. And it's the hardest one to answer. Why can't it be 'how did it happen' or 'how far along are you'? Well, of course, they might have a good idea of how it happened. But kidding aside, this question, I'm not ready to answer.

"Lindsey, well, I…" my tongue was failing me. I kept looking everywhere but her and I thought she got the message.

"You're not ready to tell, I understand," she smiled. She wiped away a tear that managed to roll down my cheek. "Does he know?" I shook my head. "Does anybody know? Danny? Sheldon? _Mac_?"

"Nobody knows it but you, Lindsey," I confessed. If Danny knew, the whole lab would too. If Sheldon knew, he won't let me within 50 meters of a dead body. If Flack knew, he would've cuffed me in the squad car to prevent me from pursuing a perp. And if Mac knew… I don't know. I don't know what he would do.

"Thank you, Stella," she said encasing me in another bear hug. "For trusting me. I promise, this won't come from me. I'll wait until you're ready."

"Thanks for being a great friend, Lindsey," I said to her returning the embrace. Things suddenly felt lighter after our little conversation. Since then, I could talk freely with her about how cranky I feel at times or if I'm having trouble sleeping and such.

She took me out shopping on our day off together. Not for maternity clothes but for looser shirts I could wear to work, until I'm ready to tell them about my situation or until they notice – whichever comes first. I was starting to feel the little butterfly wing movements my doctor was talking about. The first time I felt it, I bawled like a little child; I was in the shower, preparing to go to bed. It was faint and sudden but I knew it was my baby.

* * *

_KaRWash – thanks! I hope you enjoy the rest of the story when it unfolds._

_mj0621 – Stella's one of the strongest people Mac knows. She'll pull through. Hahahaha… in Tagalog: **keri yan!**_

_mandi – we'll have fluff later lol. Oops, better stop now before I spoil the fun…_

_Treyann – well, I hope this answers your question. Girls gotta stick together. Thanks for reading!_

_napafun – I can't spoil the story for y'all but this I can tell… this'll have a happy ending._

_Vipercharmed – I E-mail you yesterday, I think. Need help on that fic? I can help you._


	7. Blood

_**A/N: Hey! I finally got time off from all the schoolwork I was doing. **_

_**Everybody was asking how Mac would find out about the baby… Well, all I am saying is: READ ON. **_

_**I hope you enjoy this part. Thanks!

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**_

_So here I am  
And can you please tell me... _

Stella had been acting strange recently. Quitting caffeine, eating more (especially cherries), taking a back seat from hunting down a suspect… and her mood has gone haywire. One minute she's laughing, the next – she's in tears. And the whole lab noticed (the men in particular) that she had also changed wardrobes.

Yet, those changes are not the ones that raised my attention. I felt as if she's avoiding me. As if she wanted to spend the least time with me as possible. Everyday, I would invite her out for lunch or dinner after shift but she would decline – even if I offered to cook for her. It's always 'I'm not in the mood' or 'I'm too tired' or 'I don't think it's a good idea'. I know something's bothering her. I want to be there for her but I don't know what to do if I don't know the problem.

She's been spending a lot of time with Lindsey. I know it's foolish to be jealous over a female colleague having quality talk time with Stella. But where I'm getting at is that I wanted to hear what she has to say; maybe I can help her. We're open books to each other. I wonder what changed.

One fateful day, I found out what Stella was hiding from me – from the team even. It is the day I nearly lost her. We were working a case in a high-rise condominium, rape and murder of an aspiring actress in her own home. I was bagging the sheets and some Trace and she was dusting for prints. I remember, we were talking about the new James Bond movie when all of a sudden, there was a pop and a man was standing in the room with us. He shot the lamp and then he had the gun cocked at Stella. She had her left hand up and her right, around her abdomen. I brushed it off at first then I found out later what it really meant.

"Hand all the bags to me and I'll go," the armed assailant said to the both of us. "Don't even think of pointing your weapon at me if you know what's good for your little girlfriend here." He stepped closer to Stella. We didn't move an inch until he screamed out, "Do it now! Or I'll shoot!"

We both know that we had to protect the evidence. But we also had to protect ourselves. I can't call for back up and we've dismissed the attending officer. We were 25 floors up and that leaves no time for Flack and the others to get this guy. Stella began to whimper in her corner. She looked at me as if pleading me to give this man the evidence bags beside me.

Seeing her like that… it scared me. She looked like a little girl, cowering in fright. Then I looked at the guy; he was also looking at me with his hand outstretched, waiting for me to hand him the goods. Well, I didn't spend years in USMC for nothing. I took him down easy, disarmed him and picked up his weapon. I got in front of Stella to shield her from what he might do next. He was still dazed when he stood back up – what I didn't anticipated was a reserve weapon hidden in his boot.

Without anything else, he opened fire onto the both of us. In the ruckus, I remembered shooting once and he fell. I dropped the gun and went to check if he's still alive. He wasn't. A bullet to the heart. "He's gone, Stell," I said, fishing out my phone to call for rescue. When she didn't answer, I looked behind me.

"Mac, help," Stella whispered. She was bleeding, one on the left shoulder but no sign of the bullet.

"Are you okay?" I said cradling her head to my chest. "Where else are you hit?" We heard footsteps coming, and then the paramedics arrived together with Flack and Sheldon.

Her right arm was tight around her belly still. "I'm not hit, Mac," she said. "It's just a scrape…oh god!" she screamed in pain. "Please… no!"

"Stella?" Sheldon knelt beside her. "Mac…" he then said to me pointing in between her legs. _Blood_. "Was she hit any where else?" I heard him say. Everything sounded far away after I saw all that blood. All I could do was shake my head and the paramedics took her away to the hospital.

Flack said it would be best if I go with her in the ambulance. I wasn't hit; it was the least of my problems. Right now, Stella is all that matters.

When we got into the ER, we got separated. The doctor told me that they had to stabilize her and check how much blood she's lost. I told them that I'm fine and they told me to stay in the waiting room. The room was pristine; it made me look dirtier with all the blood and dust on my clothes.

Stella never let go of her tummy even in the ambulance. I was holding her hand, feeling her faint pulse under my thumb; she left our hands intertwined on top of her abdomen. She passed out en route to the hospital. When I saw her on that gurney… it was like Claire all over again. Stella lying there, almost lifeless, her eyes closed and I knew she was in pain. It broke my heart. I wasn't going to lose another woman I love.

I've been thinking things over for quite a while now. Me and Stella – what are we really? I do care for her a lot and I trust her with ever fiber of my being. And I'm sure she's the same with me. But at that moment, why did it feel like she was hiding something from me. My fingers were caked in blood, her blood – it wasn't the first time though. Her hands are stained by my blood as well. She held – _holds_ – my heart in her hands.

My stay in that waiting area felt like hours. I was alone in there, the ticking of quartz clock my only entertainment. I sat on every plastic chair in the room, walked on every tile and examined all the writings on the wall. The hospital directory, menu for the day at the cafeteria, emergency numbers, and department codes, baby pictures… until I just sat down and calmed myself down.

A while after, the attending physician, Dr. Lea Manning entered the room, looking for me. "How is she?" I immediately asked before she even closed the door.

"Detective Taylor," she started with a smile. "Sir, Miss Bonasera will be fine. She did lose a lot of blood but we've taken care of that and she's stable." I let go of a sigh I didn't know I was holding. "Keep her out of the field for the time being and she'll be making a full recovery." Her smile was very comforting. "You can see her later today."

"Thank you very much, Doctor," I said, shaking her hand and turning around to collect myself. Stella was going to be okay. _I wasn't going to lose her._

Just when I thought Dr. Manning left, she wheeled back and added, "By the way, the baby is safe as well. There is a huge chance that Miss Bonasera will carry it to full term with no complications." Then she left.

_Baby_? What baby? _Whose _baby? Everything made sense after that. Stella was clutching her tummy all throughout the ordeal; she's protecting not herself… but her baby.

Fire and ice flushed through my veins. I suddenly realized something that made me physically weak in the knees. I had to hold myself up against the wall. _Stella_ is _pregnant_. The pieces finally snapped into place. _Whose_ baby?

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_Hmm... I wonder whose?_


	8. I Love This Man

**_A/N: You guys… ARE THE GREATEST! I cannot thank you enough for all the reviews and hits and comments. I never knew this little story would go this far and will be this loved._**

**_I do hope I can keep up with that and I hope you'll love this bit._**

**_Once again, thank you and ENJOY!

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_**

_Mine_. Tears fell at their own accord from my eyes. My hands were shaking and the hairs on the back of my neck are standing up. I was so terrified – I didn't know what to do… what to think! How long has she known? When does she plan to tell me? _Would_ she tell me? Would she let me be a part of that baby's life despite of the circumstances surrounding its conception? What would we say to each other?

There was a myriad of questions and emotions rushing through me. The reality set in that I am going to be a father to a little child. By my best friend Stella Bonasera – the woman I… _love?_ That was one of the questions plaguing me. I just wanted to see her, talk to her, hold her, and tell her that I'll be there for her.

I should be jumping for joy. All my life, especially during my married life, I wanted to have a child. Claire, too. But her life was cut short just when we were ready to have one. How I longed to feel a pregnant belly, knowing it's a life in there; a life I helped create – a life from love. Never in my wildest imaginations that the belly that I will feel will be Stella's, the life inside – my own child and that love… _would be her_.

_I look into your eyes  
And now I know, now I know_

I felt the heat of the slug slice against my left shoulder. I had never been so scared in my life. I stared at the barrel of that man's gun and automatically, I hugged my tummy – my little baby. The next thing I knew, there was a heavy thud and then Mac checking if I was all right.

I remember a sharp pain shooting from my midsection. I forgot about the blood on my shoulder when I felt something else was bleeding. I prayed that my baby wasn't harmed. Everything went by so fast; I must've been in and out of consciousness but I knew that I was holding somebody's hand.

The white walls of the hospital room blinded me. There was an eerie silence going around the space; everything was white and I was alone. I felt small and helpless – I couldn't move. The door cracked open and a nurse came in with a smile.

"Oh you're awake," the nurse named Lydia said. "Your tests came back and congratulations! You will have a healthy baby. The shot didn't affect it in any way."

My hands traveled to my tummy to check if my baby is still there. The comforting bulge I felt there made me smile. "But why did I bleed?"

"The doctor said it's probably the stress you felt during that situation," Lydia explained. She sat down beside me and continued, "It's one hell of an experience. I know you do work or law enforcement, ma'am but you're very brave. I would've fainted if I were there." She laughed. "Oh I should stop before I bore you with my babbles."

"No, it's okay," I said thanking her for the company.

"Speaking of company," she said standing up, "your boyfriend is waiting outside. The good-looking guy with the badge."

I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks. "Uh, Lydia… he's not my boyfriend. He's my boss."

"Oh sorry, my bad," she laughed again. "Poor guy's been worried sick about you. He won't eat anything, drink a drop of water or do anything until he's certain you're okay."

"Well, that means until he sees me with his own eyes," I said jokingly.

"See! Now, you tell me he's not your boyfriend," she leered. I could deny it all I want but she would just push. "He appeared to be pretty shaken up after Dr. Manning told him the baby news. I take it he doesn't know?"

I sighed. "Only one other person in my workplace knows. And Mac… well, he doesn't know." Lydia gave me a look. I read the question that came with that. My defense crumbled and since the cat's out of the bag already, I decided to fess up. "_Yes_," I managed to whisper. She just smiled in understanding.

"I'll let him in now before he burns a hole on the floor," she said holding my hand. "Everything will be just fine, Stella. He looks like he's a good man."

Yes, he is. I held my breath as Lydia exited and held the door open for Mac. Our eyes met and I was powerless to look away. I nearly cried when I saw what he looked like. He was disheveled; it was like he ran his hands through his hair one too many times. He was covered in blood – probably mine since he wasn't in any bandages. He was white as a sheet and he walked slowly towards me. There were tears in his eyes and I longed to wipe them away like I've always done. But most of all, he looked _lost_.

"Hi, Stell," he said sitting down on the bed. "The doctor said you're going to be okay. It was just a scratch," it was a very awkward moment. We didn't know what to say to each other. "And the doctor also said that…" he paused and his eyes were looking at my tummy, "the…" I know he couldn't say it so I said it for him.

I took his hand that was closest to me and placed it atop my tummy. I heard his breath hitch as he felt the slight bulge. He gently felt around and a fresh batch of tears well from both our eyes. This is the first time that we cried _together_. "It's going to be fine," I choked, thumbing away his tears.

"Sorry," he whispered amongst his sobs.

"No, shh," I placed my finger on his lips. "It's okay, I understand," I whispered. He gently kissed my finger and held my hand in his. It was at that moment that I knew… I was sure that _I love this man_.

I don't care if he doesn't feel the same or if he sees me as just his friend. I love him and for me, it's all that mattered. My world became my unborn child and this man in front of me.

"Do you want to…" I started to say; I just want to get it out of my system, "know what happened that night?" His eyes were bloodshot and I knew that his tears clouded his vision. His hand never left my tummy and a slight smile was on his face. Mac nodded, taking my hand in his and together, we felt our baby.

* * *

_Well, there you go._

_He knows._

_She told him._

_What now?_


	9. I Couldn't Say No

**_A/N: What can I say? It's getting harder and harder to keep up with the expectation out of all your wonderful reviews. Can I do it? Ooohh… I hope so._**

**_School is still being a biotch and I'm stuck with my story. Yes, this story. Ooooh, the pressure is closing in on me. Please, please cheer me up. :)_**

**_Enjoy!

* * *

_**

I was more than happy to tell him. Once and for all, I don't want to keep it inside anymore. "The chief asked my why you weren't coming to the party," I started willing him to look at me. "I said some stupid excuse for the both if us. I figured you could use some company so I headed over to your place. You were drunk when I arrived, you offered me a bottle but…"

"You know better," he finished for me. It's an age-old habit we have, finishing each other's sentences. "Two drunk people under one roof may spell trouble," he muttered, remembering a quote from a retired beat cop we once worked with.

I chuckled at the memory. "Yeah, but…" I paused as I realized the irony in that statement. "It turned out that I didn't know better either, Mac." It was his turn to chuckle, his eyes having some semblance of lightness in them. "You kissed me and I was powerless not to kiss back. Your hands were like fire on my skin… the fire that I desperately needed," I blushed at my confession. There was a point where I didn't want to continue but Mac placing kisses on my palm and fingers told me that it's all right.

"I must admit, I couldn't remember how we ended up in the bedroom," I continued, placing our hands back on my bump. "I guess I was pretty shocked at how fast things were happening. Or maybe I was drunk with…" I didn't want to say the word but it's the only one I could think of that's appropriate, "_lust._"

I could see a blush creeping up his cheeks. "And I guess you have an idea of what happened next," I whispered, managing my own flush. We smiled at each other, our hands tight against each other. "And before you ask… you were good." My face was burning like crazy.

"Stell," he said softly, "something's telling me you're not…" I could see him searching for words, "_happy_ – while you're with me." I knew it came out off but I got what he was trying to say.

He was kind of right when he said that. It took me a while to think of how to say my answer properly. But I've decided to give it out as is. "You called me _Claire_, Mac," I said emotionlessly and a bit forcefully. The pain of the morning after came back to me like a ton of bricks. The slight smile on his face fell when he heard that. "You were kissing Claire. _Not me. _You were touching her, tasting her, making love to her. You said you wanted a child with her," I was crying at this point in our conversation. His hand was limp and heavy on my abdomen. It was hard to meet his eyes – but it was harder to look away when I did. "I guess this is her way of fulfilling what she left here on earth."

"I was drunk," he reasoned, trying to grasp the reality that I am carrying his child in my womb.

"Yes, I know," I said vehemently. "All the more reason I understand." _I do understand_. I still don't get why this happened but there is no use in questioning. It's here, I'm pregnant and I'm planning to keep my little baby.

"Stella, you shouldn't bear the consequences of my carelessness," Mac continued looking more lost than he already is.

"This baby inside me," I said emphasizing each word, "is mine as it is yours. We made this little life, Mac. I could've said no but I… didn't. _I couldn't." _I said the last word as if I was talking to myself.

I felt his hand on my cheek, wiping away my tears. "Why, Stell?" His touch was warm and comforting.

I couldn't shake off the memories of that night, the morning after until the time I had to face him. It hurt me a lot that he wasn't seeing me with him in those intimate moments. My heart broke when her name escaped his lips instead of mine. I couldn't forget how warm yet very cold his embrace was. But I reminded myself of the real reason why I went over there to his place at the first place – to cheer him up.

"I didn't – _couldn't –_ say no because… I knew those were your happy memories of her," I said slowly. "You said you wanted to have kids with her. That's something she wasn't able to give you. You were remembering your dreams with her." I took a deep breath before I continued, "I couldn't deny you your happiness, Mac. I _love_ you that much."

He stared blankly at me. "What did you say, Stella?" he asked, his hands cradling my face. "You love me?"

I closed my eyes, my way of saying yes. "I understand if you don't feel that same." And I'm pretty sure he didn't. "All this mess… it's so much to process already. I don't want to burden you with another one so just please forget I ever said anything."

The next thing I knew, Mac's lips were on mine – the same soft and gentle kiss we shared that night. I was just too weak to resist him. I kissed him back with the same eagerness, my arms pulling him closer to me. "Thank you," he whispered against my lips. "Thank you…"

"For what, Mac?" I asked kissing the tip of his nose.

"For chasing my fears away," he said sitting beside me, his arms around my frame, "I was scared of loving you, Stella. I was afraid of admitting it to you – to _myself_ that I…" he paused and took a deep breath, "I've always loved you."

I held my breath at his confession. I couldn't form words to tell him what I was feeling. He continued, "After Claire… I was thankful for you being beside me when I needed someone. I thought no one would stand being with me – Claire did say once that I'm a hard person to understand." I laughed at this; she's right after all. "But you stayed. You made things easier for me," he said after a smile. "It wasn't hard to fall for you. What was harder was… admitting that I do."

Mac coming clean like this is rare. Like most guys, he would dance around a topic before saying anything. He's a man of not many words – more on actions. And it's true. He may not have said that he loves me, but in the back of my mind, I felt that he does.

"But what about Peyton?" I asked. "How about her?"

"She's a nice lady," he said, placing a kiss on my forehead. "I did like her but it was hard to be with her. She asked for so much right away – things I can't give her." Mac shrugged and continued, "Peyton and I were better off as friends and co-workers."

I had to look down. Friends and co-workers were all I thought we could be. "Hey, Stella.. don't," he said, kissing me again. He might have read my mind. "We do bring out the best in each other in our line of work, Stell. Give me a chance and I'll prove to you that it doesn't end there."

"What are you saying, Mac?" I asked him.

"If you're willing, maybe we can try to make _this_ work," he answered shyly. He took my hands in his and went on to say, "I mean if you want to raise the baby with me. Please… it would mean so much to me."

I couldn't believe my ears. He's offering me a… "A _family_, Mac?" He nodded and all I could do was cry and wrap my arms around him tight.

Yes, I want a family with this man.

* * *

_Thanks so much._

_That's all I could say to y'all. You are simply the best!_


	10. One Potential Casualty

_**A/N: So sorry…so very sorry. I'm so sorry the next part took too long. Alerts are working fine; it's me who isn't. I'm in the middle of working my shifting papers and it's so stressful. Plus I'm stuck with this very story. It's sad, I know. But I'm recuperating. My story outline layout is better than where I am now.**_

_**But as I sort that thing out, enjoy this. It's angst you want? ANGST YOU GET.

* * *

**_

_And now that I am here with you  
I'll never let you go_

After I was discharged from the hospital, Mac invited me to stay with him. The department didn't want me tiring myself out so they gave me temporary resignation status. The doctor gave me a clean bill of health but she did say that because of the stress I've been putting myself through – and not to mention my age, I might have a risky pregnancy.

Mac said it would be best if I stay at home. Home meaning, _his house_. He promised to be home every night, in time for dinner. And he did keep to that promise. It took me quite a while to adapt a domestic role around his – he insists I call it _our_ – house. I've been living alone for almost all my life: cooking for one, shopping for one, doing only one load of laundry, sleeping alone with the whole bed to myself. Now, I have someone to do my laundry for me (Mac does). And I've learned to maneuver in and around the Asian food isle because he _adores_ stir-fry and rice cakes.

I must admit that it's kind of nice to sleep and wake up in somebody's arms with a 'good night' and 'good morning' kiss. In the middle of the night, I feel him pulling the blanket over my toes; I kick it off as soon as his head hits the pillow. He's a very light sleeper; we both are. So we would spend long nights just talking… cases, movies, Danny, the news for the week, his frustrations, Flack, my hormones, our baby and the one topic that surprised us both: _our future_. We were avoiding talking about that at first but I guess we're in this together; it's inevitable.

Sure, we have made love since he invited me to live with him. Never have I been so close to another person before. Mac was so gentle with his movements that it brought tears to my eyes. It scared him the first time; he thought he hurt me. But he never could hurt me. We would achieve completion together and every single time, _my name_ escaped his lips. There would be nights were he'd be spooned against me after a session of lovemaking, just whispering sweet nothings in my ear until we both fall asleep.

I started feeling my baby more around the middle of the fourth month. I kept telling Mac about it and he had started talking to our baby already. He was really excited. I was too, but in the back of my mind, something wasn't quite right. Yes, I was happy yet… I don't know. I don't suspect him of cheating – hell, I don't have a right to accuse him of anything since we weren't really in a serious, formal relationship after all. We fell into this arrangement because of my situation, our baby. Heck, I'm not even sure if we're boyfriend or girlfriend. We had no talks concerning that and no confirmation whatsoever. As far as I know, he's being a very responsible man.

But I knew that he loved me. I loved him. And here we are, skirting around a profound subject matter. I don't want him to think that I'm expecting something _from_ him or him expecting something from me. One moment, I'm in love with my boss. The next, I'm pregnant with my boss's son or daughter. It's so confusing – how we want the things we don't have only to realize that you're not 100 percent happy with it once you have it.

I know I might come off as being selfish but that was what I'm feeling. There is something missing between Mac and I. I'm not even sure if that something is _missing_. I feel it is something _lost._

We had a lot of sacrifices going into what we have now, whatever it is. I had to leave my job (for a while). I couldn't even go to the lab because of all the chemicals they deal with in there. On his part, he stopped doing overtime more than he is allowed. Since I don't work, his expenses doubled – more when the baby comes. And I also saw one potential casualty… _our friendship_.

Friendship and a rather intimate (albeit twisted) relationship are two very different things. Friends have barriers, places where one have to stay away from and respect. Mac and I had 12 years and a lot of elbow grease to master that art. Moving from that arrangement – where there are still aspects that are hands-off – to this one where one tends to bare every inch of his/her being is a huge change. We are literally and figuratively _thrust_ into the latter, thus, coming dangerously close to spoiling the prior.

I thought I could get used to this new side. I thought things would get better – or at least back to normal. We both thought so. But it actually did more harm than good. We became distant after three weeks or so. I stay at home when he's out there all day working. He comes home late, tired and not in the mood for anything. He goes straight to bed after a quick shower and a kiss goodnight. In the middle of the night, he gets called in and he's out the door the next second after he apologizes and pulls the blanket over my toes. On his day-off, he catches up on sleep. In the mornings, he wakes up before me and oftentimes, I wake up to a glass of warm milk and a croissant.

When I was just his _friend_, we spent every waking hour together. We would talk in the car, in the lab, at a crime scene, at Sullivan's, everywhere. But after we became… uh, well… _soon-to-be parents_, I'd be lucky if we have at least a dozen words between each other. On a good day, maybe twenty sans the daily greetings and endearments. I was stuck inside the house; I'd talk to my baby and somehow, I wish someone would talk back at me.

I can see and feel that I'm growing. I hoped Mac could see that too. Well, how could he if he's chasing bad guys all the time? I've often wondered what if I was still allowed to go to work. How would things be? Mac and I would've had a healthier relationship. Not like this. I was choking in his loose hold on me. I need to get out of it before it becomes toxic.

One night, Mac came home from work in a good mood. He brought be dinner and we watched a movie, sort of. Dishes ended up at the sink and most of our clothes ended up on the floor by the end of the movie. He fell asleep in my arms. It broke my heart thinking of what I was to do that night. I held him tight against me, his hand on my tummy. We could've been the perfect family. We could've been happy. Only… we weren't.

* * *

_mj0621 – no, it's not the end. You know me… the longer the better. Well, as long as you guys still read it._

_Paly – aw… writers block so sucks. Well, it reminded me – this Friday, I have a Spanish exam lol… wish me luck!_


	11. A Few Fat Drops

**_A/N: Hey! Still there? I got a little breather and decided to update (finally!) haha. I don't want you guys to keep on waiting on what'll happen. I know you love angst… SMACked angst that is._**

**_So, I'll make your hearts break pre-Valentines Day. I'm cruel like that. :) _**

**_Enjoy!

* * *

_**

I've packed my bags that morning whilst he was at work. I've also booked a flight to Los Angeles to leave the next day. There was no turning back now.

Mac started to stir. I looked deep in his eyes and said, "Let's take this to bed, shall we?"

He smiled and collected me into his arms. "You're a bit frisky tonight, huh Stella," he chuckled, carefully placing me on to our bed and pinning me on it.

"I missed you," I said out loud as my heart cried out, "_I'll_ miss you." That was our last night together in New York.

I wasn't able to get any sleep. He did get a call-out at around 2am, a double homicide or something. What I heard was Flack's voice over Mac's phone. I felt instantly guilty. I'm leaving not only Mac and my great city… I'm also leaving my friends behind. Danny, Flack, Sheldon, Lindsey, Sid… all of them, without even saying goodbye.

He kissed me on his way out, told me that he loves _us_ and went out the door. I laid there crying my eyes out until 5am. My flight was to leave at 6:45am. _It was time to go_.

I took my stuff; just a suitcase-full of clothes and some shoes and a few pictures that I can't seem to leave behind. How I wished I could take my badge with me. I left everything else in Mac's care. I berated myself on how cowardly I was… leaving like that, unannounced, unseen. Like in all cliché movies we have watched over and over, I thought it was best to leave him a letter.

_Mac,_

_Before anything else, I want to thank you for EVERYTHING. It's been a wonderful ride with you, through the years, the thick and the thin, all the blood, sweat and tears we shared. But all good things have to come to an end. I had fun while it lasted._

_I guess I have this is the part where I say I'm sorry. Sorry. For leaving this way. For leaving you. I have to do this for my sake, yours and our baby's. Explanations, I have some but I know they can never be enough. I love you, Mac – I always have. I loved you more when you decided to take responsibility of this baby in my womb. But I guess, even if you're with me, I would still be raising him or her on my own. I must admit I'm scared… I've been alone for so long. Nevertheless, I'll do it. For you._

_You've been my strength. But now, I have to find my own strength. I think I have to support myself first before I could support another life. Don't worry, I'll take good care of our baby – I'll fulfill your dreams for him/her, I'll make sure s/he lives a happy life. I don't want you to think that I'm taking our child away from you. One day, Mac – we'll see each other again._

_I left everything to you, left a little for me. It's up to you… you can throw everything away, forget about me altogether. Or maybe, keep them… if they remind you of me. I know I will have someone reminding me of you. And of how much I love you._

_Mac, I guess this is goodbye. Please don't cry; not when I'm not there to wipe away your tears._

_Love, Stella._

It surprised me how easily the words flew from my heart to the paper. I was crying the whole time, a few fat drops blotting the ink but still readable. Finishing all the clichés of that moment, I kissed the paper and placed it on the dresser under our picture. With one last look inside the house, I left.

I counted my footsteps from the front door to the sidewalk, from the sidewalk to the spot where I hailed a cab, from where I alighted to my seat on the plane. I lost count at three hundred – my tears did the counting for me. As New York became smaller and smaller, I felt a part of my was dying by the second. My friends, my work, my life… _my love_. I'd probably never see them again.

I hid my tears from the seemingly happy couple beside me on the plane. I didn't want to ruin their day. But then again, when you're in love – the whole world seems to just melt away around you and your significant other.

As the seatbelt sign went out, I hugged myself and my little baby. At least I know I won't be alone. Never again.

* * *

_Sorry it's deadly short. I'm just buying time coz I'm so hopelessly stuck. But that's okay. If Stephen King gave up then we wouldn't have "The Green Mile"._

_xx-hanna-xx – lol, sorry. I'm cruel. But so far… trust me, it's gonna turn out happy._

_Paly – muchas gracias! I managed to do well on my Spanish exam._

_Mad Lil' Me – like I said to hanna (and with my other SMACked fics) – it'll be a happy ending. Just stay tuned how._

_Mandi – yeah, some time apart is nice. Just… for how long?;)_

_Reine – true. I do know some people who went through a somewhat similar thing._


	12. Her Glorious Curls

**_A/N: Newsflash! I'm out of my writer's block! Whee… and I've finished reading 'The Green Mile' and about to start on hmm, either 'Pet Sematery' or 'The Stand'. Which should I pick? The copy that my cousin gave me of 'The Stand' has Gary on it so yeah…hahaha, it'll be a fun read. Lol…_**

**_Once again, you guys blow my away. Thanks for all the reviews. I hope this thing doesn't get boring. (crosses her fingers and wishes for the best) _**

**_Enjoy this part and thank you!_**

_We said we needed space _

Just like what Stella said in her letter, I didn't cry when I found out that she left. More like, _I couldn't._ I lost my reason to live. Stella. And our baby. That night, I stayed inside my empty house, quiet, lonely. I couldn't look at the bedroom, too much memories of our happier moments. That was where we conceived our child regardless of the conditions around it. The couch… I would massage her feet while she's sitting there. The full-length mirror by the hallway, Stella would look at her growing figure everyday.

The next day at work, all of them knew something was up. It turned out that Lindsey and Peyton tried calling Stella's number to invite her to a girls' night out at the Opera. She couldn't be reached. They tried the home phone but they got the machine.

Plus the dark circles under my eyes tell the bigger story. "Did she tell you where she's going? For how long?" Sheldon asked me after I told them what happened and what the letter said. Frankly, I don't even know what happened… again. I just shook my head no. I couldn't trust my voice.

All of them, including Sid offered to talk when I needed someone. Sid even joked, "I may not have her glorious curls but I guess my two ears will have to do." Hey, at least he made the mood lighter.

I must admit, I wasn't missing her alone. Danny and Flack are both driving the two new CSIs nuts with their "Stella would do it like this" or "Detective Bonasera would've done that hours ago". She's very missed around the lab. There's no blob of energy running around here anymore. No one speaks Greek in random in the layout labs. And, "I kind of miss having Detective Bonasera's clothing choice to look at," one of the techs said.

Stella left when she was five months pregnant. She would've given birth by now, wherever she is. Our baby would be at least three months old. Yes, it has been half a year since she went away… a year since _that night._ I could say that things went back to how she left it – but the people aren't.

I've started writing to her. Page upon page of written words, talking to her and telling her what's been happening. Kind of like a diary of sorts. Only this time, it's like talking to Claire – nobody's answering back. I guess it's better this way. The two women in my life… just listening to what I have to say because I wasn't able to say it to them whilst they were still with me. I was so caught up with my job and its effects on me. I thought I was superman… I forgot that I should be saving them first.

At the end of each day, I come back home to my house where I am, once again, _alone_, eat a TV dinner, watch an old sitcom – laughing myself to sleep only to wake up the next day, _lonely. _When I find time in my office where everything's quiet, I try to be strong because that is what the people around me expect of the Mac Taylor they know. Also, I know that's what Claire and Stella would've wanted.

I kept the letter. It's in my wallet. I read it when I feel like I'm breaking down. I kept telling myself that Stella's a strong woman and she's being strong for our baby. Because of that, I should be strong, too – for the both of them.

Sometimes I wonder what our baby looks like. If it's a girl, I hope she has Stella's wonderful green eyes and lovely hair. She would have her mother's wits and charm. If it's a boy… oh, I don't know – I'm sure he'll be smart.

I've often pictured the three of us – Stella, our baby and I – walking in Central Park in the summer or spring on a Sunday, hand-in-hand and happy. Just like the family I saw about four hours ago when I was on my way to process a crime scene in the park. They were so carefree, smiling at each other. We could've been them: Stella pushing a stroller and I could've been carrying a diaper bag instead of a forensics kit. Danny saw me looking so he distracted me with his babbling. It worked; at least he got my attention away from them.

I was always tempted to find her, trace her address if possible. Maybe if she applied for work at any of the police departments around the country, it would be very effortless. After all, you can take a girl out of CSI but I doubt you can take the CSI out of the girl. A smart woman like her wouldn't settle for anything less. A friend from the higher ups offered to help me but I declined. Stella needed space.

And I think I did too.

_To everyone – I hear you all. But all I am saying is …this is going to be a happy ending. Just… not now. ;)_

_PS: darn, I hate myself for posting such short chapters. humph._


	13. Shopping bags and Blue Wallpaper

_**A/N: Okay, here we are with the influx of original characters. If you don't like OC's then I'm very sorry. But I hope you like the Mac-Stella dynamic along with it.**_

_**Disclaimer Joel, Andrea and Margot Moore are my original characters based on a real family that I know. Joel is a pediatrician, Andrea is a college professor and Margot is in elementary school. Another thing, 'City University' is also mine. And this time, it's based on my own university, the University of the Philippines – Diliman.**_

_**So our story will have some slight turns. I hope you're still with me for the ride.

* * *

**_

_But all we found was an empty place_

It was a long four months for me. I have not heard from New York since. As soon as I arrived in LA, an old friend from the orphanage (who got better opportunities) took me – _us _in. I met Andrea Fabriani-Moore in the group home I've lived at until I was 18. A couple took her in when she was 13. We kept in touch after she left. Now, she's married, with a kid of her own and doing well for herself. She inherited the family bakery business.

Andrea and Joel luckily were in LAX when my flight landed. Apparently, they just came home from a two-week vacation in the Philippines. When I thought of going to LA, it never entered my mind where I would stay, what I would do. And coincidentally, I bumped into Andrea at the luggage pick-up.

"Stella Bonsera, is that you?" she said in her ever-shrill voice. I turned to look at that voice and I just broke out into this huge smile. "Oh it _is_ you! Come here," she cried out, pulling me into a tight hug. But as soon as she did, she sprung back, "We have a bun in the oven, I see."

"Yes, I do," I said, spotting my luggage and hers beside it. "How have you been?"

We took our stuff and started walking to the benches. "Oh here, being a stay-at-home mother to Margot and wife to Joel," she chuckled. "I took a break from teaching since she started school."

"And look what the cat dragged in," Dr. Joel Moore said upon seeing us. He gave me one of his trademark smiles, took my bag and placed it on their trolley.

"Papa," little Margot said from between Andrea's legs, "Mama's not a kitty." We all laughed at her cute innocence. "Hi! I'm Margot – you don't say the 't' but it's there. What's your name?" she said offering her hand to me.

I took her little hand and replied, "My name is Stella. I'm your mommy's friend."

"Nice to meet you, Miss Stella!" she said with a smile.

"Okay, we better get going," Andrea said. "Where are you staying, my friend?" Only then did I remember that everything as of that moment was spontaneous and unplanned.

"Well, I… do you know where I can find a comfortable room perhaps?" I said to them. "I do have some things to sort out and…"

Andrea took my hand and like before, she instantly made me feel better. "Say no more. You can stay at our place, no problem."

"Andrea, I can't just crash at your place," I started but Joel stopped me.

"Nonsense! Sure you can," he said loading our stuff in their SUV. "That house is big enough for an army, we have a guest room ready and waiting."

I smiled at their sincere generosity. Andrea and I were like twins back in the day. And today is no different. "We'll talk later, Stella," she whispered as she placed little Margot beside me in the backseat. Joel started the car and she continued, "You should've called me first before you went over here. At least I could've bought some olive oil – I know you like the extra virgin kind."

"Okay, I'll stay," I finally gave in. Margot clapped when she heard that I was staying. "At least until I have my baby," I said. My voice almost broke; it was the first time I talked about my baby so freely.

"Baby?" Joel said, turning off the radio. "That's great! We haven't converted Margot's baby room into Andrea's closet yet – after six years," he laughed. "You can use that, too, and if you want, you can take the adjoining room."

"Oh guys, wait. That's already too much, you don't have to do that," I said, turning pink.

"Stella…" Andrea whined, "you cared for me in that orphanage for 10 years. This is the least I can do for you." She smiled at me warmly. "Not to mention you'll have free consultation courtesy of my husband here. The walls in our house is not sound-proof for nothing."

"Miss Stella?" Margot poked my side. Her bright blue eyes were beautiful. "Can I feel?" she said placing her palm on my baby bump. She inched closer to me and snuggled. I was so happy when I felt her head against my chest. "One day, my baby will be cuddling me," I said to myself.

I managed to get a job at the City University, a week after I got everything in order. I was an assistant instructor in Biology. Apparently, the dean was impressed by my track record with the NYPD that she hired me right away. I never knew that I had a knack for teaching. Maybe all those years of looking over Danny's shoulder, giving advice to Aiden, guiding Sheldon on the field, and making sure Lindsey did things right paid off.

Andrea and I started talking non-stop. It's amazing how easily I opened up to her after so many years of not seeing each other personally. I told her about Mac and what happened that night – up to my spineless decision to leave it all behind. I don't know if I wanted to start out with a clean slate or just escape it all. I'd be lying if I say that I don't think about him. I do… _a lot_. When we went baby shopping, how I wished it was him and not Andrea who was holding the shopping bags. When we made slight changes in the baby room, I wanted Mac to be the one putting up the blue spaceship wallpaper, not some handymen. Basically, I just wanted him to be there.

* * *

_This is sort of an introduction._

_So how is it?_

_Mandi – we don't know yet lol…this I'm sure, it's not twins._

_ChocoBetty – hahaha, it's LA for me because I sort of know the place. And my original characters are from LA so I don't have to imagine much of their actions and such. But I'm glad you like it._

_Julie – yeah, I miss writing something like that. Hmmm, maybe when the right situation hits me. ;)_


	14. Looking for This

_**A/N: Belated Happy Singleness Awareness Day! Okay, belated Happy Valentine's Day as well! So how was it? Mine was fun… I had class, then went SCUBA diving. Hahahaha….**_

_**But my ramblings are not why you're here right? Okay, since you've been such great readers/subscribers/reviewers, here's a long one. I'm sure you are going to enjoy this bit. I loved writing this part. Another OC, the doctor – is based on my doctor friend hahaha! **_

_**So here you go. Enjoy and don't forget to leave a comment on it. Thanks!

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One Saturday morning in August, Andrea, Margot and I were in the kitchen making oatmeal cookies. Margot was chattering about how she wants a puppy for her birthday. We were just waiting for the cookies to finish baking when I felt a slight pain on my lower back and tummy. I tried to brush it off but suddenly… _my water broke_.

"Oh my goodness, Stella!" Andrea cried out, flying off the chair and then to my side. "It's time! Let me call Joel and he'll have everything ready. Margot, make sure Aunt Stella is comfy until I come back."

The little girl stayed with me, unsure of what to do. I just pulled her in my arms and whispered, "I'm going to have my baby. And you're going to have your little playmate."

She smiled and gave me a peck on the cheek. "Does it hurt?" she asked.

"Not really. I mean, I'm not screaming yet," I said. A few seconds later, I wanted to take that back. A sharp pain shot to my tummy that I had to bite my lip to keep myself from crying out. Another one followed not long after that.

The next thing I knew is that I was inside Andrea's car, to the hospital and my doctor, Dr. Almond Evers checking me. I just wanted to pain to be over with. Surprisingly, all it took was four _huge_ pushes and a cry pierced through the air.

"It's a big healthy boy, Stella!" I heard her say through my daze. I saw a reddish blob being carried away to the cleaning area and then wrapped in a white blanket. Dr. Evers went over to my side and placed my little son in my arms. "Here you go. He's perfect."

The first time I saw his little scrunched up face (he was still crying), a surge of love went through me and I thought that there is nothing – or no one – more beautiful that my little baby. He settled down and snuggled closer to me; I kissed his forehead and I saw that he had a full head of hair. When our eyes met for the first time, I had to hold back a sob… it was Mac's eyes looking back at me.

And the dam just broke. There he was… my little baby boy. I now have a _family_. I held him gently against my breast and I just bawled. He fell asleep right then and there, such delicate eyelashes touching his soft cheeks. They had to take him away for some more tests and cleaning as the exhaustion got to me and I fell asleep.

I remember dreaming about Central Park that day. I was holding my baby as I sat on one of the benches in the park. I was watching the kids play in the sandbox, the jungle gym, swings, and slides… I told my baby that one day, he'd be one of those kids. I reached into the diaper bag to my right feeling around for his bottle but I couldn't feel it. I checked the other side and still nothing. He was starting to fuss in my arms and if I don't have the bottle yet…

A voice then said, "Looking for this?" and a hand materialized in front of my face holding the bottle. That voice was vaguely familiar that it made the hair on the back of my neck stand. My baby was crying fully at this point; he was hungry. I took the bottle from that man, our fingers touching and I felt cold. When I began to look up to see who that man was… there was a flash of light and I woke up with a start.

This time, my baby boy was really crying. He was in a small crib near my bed, wrapped in a blue blanket. I willed myself to stand up and walk over to him; my muscles weren't cooperating and I was a little sore. But I did get to his crib and scooped him up in my arms.

"Shh, little baby," I whispered to calm him down. "Mommy's here. Don't cry." I wasn't going anywhere with what I was doing. New mommy jitters, I think.

I heard the door open and Dr. Evers came in. "Oh he's awake. _You're_ awake," she said closing the door and looking at the file in her hand. "You were out like a light. Your labor might be short but it took a lot from you." She noticed that my baby wouldn't stop crying no matter how much I shushed him. "Come here, Stella." And I did. I sat on my bed and she said, "Are you going to breastfeed?"

"I don't know how, Doctor," I admitted, wiping the drool off my son's lips. My heart was breaking the longer my baby cried.

"No worries," Dr. Evers said. "Here let me show you." And she did and in no time, my baby was suckling happily on my breast. Nothing could match that feeling; it was _euphoria_. "Best thing you can do for your baby is to breastfeed him," she said. "By the way… what did you name your little boy?"

His eyes are wide open, staring at me as if saying 'thank you'. I still couldn't believe such a beauty came from me. "Dylan," I started, still looking at his eyes, "Dylan Christopher… Bonasera." Dr. Evers wrote it down. I took his little hand and he gripped my finger. "So cute."

"Oh yes he is," she said. "The nurses in the nursery are all over him. By the way, he's 8 pounds and 4 ounces. A big baby indeed." I was so smitten. "Your friends Mrs. And Dr. Moore are waiting outside to see you. And little Margot, too. I just have to ask, will his grandparents be here?'

My smile fell. "Dr. Evers," I said, looking up, "I… uh, never knew my parents. I grew up in an orphanage in New York." She smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said, placing her hand on my shoulder. Dylan's eyes were closing again. "And… the father?"

One more question that is so hard to answer for me. "He's… in New York. Working," I told her. Technically, those two things are true. "Uh, he…"

Dr. Evers lifted my chin up. "That's okay. I'm sure you'll make a great mom to little Dylan here," she said, wrapping the blanket a little tighter around him. "He's sleeping a_gain_. It's normal; he's just a couple of hours old. Now, go cover up and I'll let them in, okay?" I nodded and thanked her as I made myself decent.

The door opened again and Margot almost flew over to my bed. Good thing Dylan didn't wake up. Joel and Andrea followed her and before I could say anything, Joel snapped a picture. And another one with Margot in the shot. "Joel has tons more when the little one was in the nursery," Andrea said, pulling her husband over to us. "What's his name?"

"Dylan Christopher," I said proudly.

"Nice name, Stella," Joel said, taking yet another picture.

"He's so tiny," Margot said in a whisper, placing her finger on a chubby cheek. "But he's cute!"

With that, Dylan stirred and his eyes opened. We all thought he was going to cry (especially Margot who covered her ears) but he didn't. Instead, he did the cutest thing… he yawned. And Joel captured it on film.

"I'm sure this is what _he'll_ do if he's here," Joel said. Yes… Mac would absolutely do that. We take pictures of every crime scene we process and everything important. I'm sure he wouldn't miss an opportunity to snap a photo of his little son. That is… _if he's here_.

I know that was the time for happy tears but I couldn't help but to let out the sadness. I felt so bad – he could've been here sharing this magical moment with me. Instead, he might be pulling a double, tired and stressed right now. I hope he's thinking about me. Because I'm thinking about him.

"Do you want to tell him, Stell?" Andrea asked me. Her addressing me with 'Stell' didn't help. "I mean, you can always call him. I can do that for you if you want."

But I thought by now, he would've forgotten about me and moved on. After all, it was I who left. He wouldn't want anything to do with me. So I said no. Dylan is all I need. When I looked at him again, he was in a staring match of sorts with Margot. She was making funny faces, trying to make him laugh. "Honey, he couldn't yet," Joel said. "He's just a few hours old, not even a day."

"I know, Papa," she said happily. "But it's fun. And he's looking at me. I wonder what he's thinking."

Yeah, me too. Dylan was looking intently at Margot then to Joel then to me and Andrea as if asking 'who are these new faces?' Then his eyes met mine and I swear, I saw him smile. I know I might've hallucinated but I know my baby's smile when I see it. It was there… and it was for me.

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_LucyStar7 – of course it'll be a happy ending. The happiness starts here, on this chapter._

_ChocoBetty – lol, yeah. I gave them twins in AFOM. And in another CSI:LV story, I gave Nick and Sara two sets of twins. That's enough for me. Hahahaha…_

_Hanna – yep, that was a hint alright._

_Paly -- I am sorry to keep you in suspense but it goes uphill from here. I hope you like this happy one._

_Mandi – you got me there :)_

_Everybody – so how was it?_

_the baby's name also has a history: I go to a class with these twin guys: Christopher and Dylan. And they are HUGE Mac and Stella fans, with some Danny on the side. And they're the only ones in my school that I know who share the SMACked with me hahahaha!_


	15. Conception Date

**_A/N: Hey guys! We're halfway there. Yeah… although the other half would probably take less than 15 chapters – I've realized that the story is kind of slow. Sorry if you find it that way as well._**

**_So, a long-ish one here for you. It's a two-part kind of thing; one part in Stella's POV and the other one is Mac's. I think I have to establish who Dylan is and what he's like because he is an integral part of this story. And I feel that the angst is not full-forced lately._**

**_I hope this part, you enjoy and please review. Thanks!

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_And the only thing I've learned_

For the first three months of Dylan's life, he slept beside me on my bed. He cried at precisely 2:30a.m. and then 6a.m. for feeding. I didn't want to wake up Andrea and the others even if she did say that the walls are soundproof. Having little sleep was nothing new to me but this is more exhausting than any work that I have done. Yet, I'm happy to do it – it's for my baby after all.

One night in November, I couldn't sleep. Dylan was dozing to my right, in his green footie pajamas and sucking the edge of his blankie. I tried reading a book but it was no use. I couldn't even force a yawn.

I know that all people celebrate the birth of their child and they don't care about their so-called 'conception date'. Mainly because they don't know when exactly that is. _But I do_. I still remember every moment of it as if it was yesterday. Yet, it's not… that day already has a product. And a beautiful product it gave. Dylan shifted slightly and I just had to smile. His pinkish round cheeks are so adorable, I just had to kiss them. And his button nose, too.

I bought him a new teddy bear today. It's resting against the headboard, looking down on him. We were in a toy store and he just grabbed it and didn't let go. It was a bear with a black coat and a blue striped necktie. On the way home, he kept on chewing (more like gumming) its left ear. He fell asleep in his crib still holding the bear in his hand.

Rolling back to my side of the bed, I waited for the last minutes of the day to tick by. Maybe if this day officially ends, I would find sleep. I watched the clock hands strike 12 and once again, I tried to sleep. But my efforts were still futile. What is it with me? I couldn't shake it off even it has been a full year. Was he thinking about me? Is that why I couldn't stop thinking about him?

The next thing I knew was Dylan starting to fuss. Yep, it's feeding time. Yet when I tried to breastfeed him, he wouldn't latch on my nipple no matter how I tried. Then I realized, he's not even crying. He's just… looking at me. I kissed his nose and he smiled. It was like looking in Mac's eyes and seeing him smile at me. It was painful yet rewarding at the same time.

His little hands got hold of a curl of my hair and he held it as if he's fascinated by it. "Yes, baby?" I said, reaching over to his teddy bear and showing it to him. He looked at it without letting go of my hair. "Bear!" I chuckled. Then I put it down on my lap as he yawned and went back to sleep. This time, I followed him to slumber land.

Dylan was a very active and happy baby. He laughed and smiled all the time; Margot loved it that he's chubby. She gave his bear a name: Mr. Cheeks. "Dilly and his bear have the same chubby cheeks," she said tickling his feet. She would laugh when he does. "Miss Stella? Where is Dilly's daddy?" she asked out of the blue.

Just then, Andrea walked in and heard her question. She picked Margot up and said, "Well, Dylan's daddy is in New York and he's working," she stammered. It's a classic excuse or cover up for the truth: _He's not in the picture._ I don't blame him; after all, it's my fault.

There are times when I find myself staring at the phone, ready to dial his number, to tell him about Dylan. I'm sure he'll be over the moon about it. But I don't know how he will react if… he hears my voice. Does he hate me? Does he still love me? Has he moved on?

I thought I needed the space. And yes, I did – but now, the space is suffocating me. I want him here with me, with our baby. Yet, I don't know how to go back into his life now that I have baggage. And after leaving like I did, I don't think he'd want me back, baby or no baby. I'd go to sleep every night, holding my baby's hand, wishing he were on the other side stroking Dylan's hair. We could've been happy together. Instead, I was being happy alone.

Dylan is a smart little boy. It was like he could feel what I was feeling. One time I was playing with him – he was around ten months at this time – and I just fell quiet. Mr. Cheeks was sitting against my knee and I was thumbing his little blue necktie. I could hear Dylan's baby babbles but I was preoccupied by something else. And then, I felt someone tugging on my shirt and something heavy settling on my lap.

I looked down and there my little baby was, smiling up at me. Then he put his head against my chest, holding tightly onto my shirt. This is how he hugs me. He doesn't want me crying – he cries when he sees me cry. I guess it's just the two of us in this world and we got to stick together. I kissed him on his downy head and hugged him tight.

"Yes, Mac," I said to myself, "We're okay." I hope you are, too.

_Is that I need you desperately…_

"What do you want for breakfast, sweetheart?" Peyton asked me. My sleep-fogged brain wasn't cooperating with me. "I'll start the coffee," she said, as I felt her weight get off the bed.

When I opened my eyes, I wasn't at all surprised to find myself naked under the sheets. Peyton and I got back together a few months after Stella left. As cold and harsh as it is, I found out that the best way to move on from heartbreak is to _replace_.

Yes, I have found my replacement. It's Peyton. I know that we're both are just hurting ourselves but this hurting felt good. I sat up when I smelled the coffee brewing. I couldn't find my shirt so I just donned my boxers and went to the kitchen. She was there, cooking pancakes, dressed in nothing but my button-down shirt.

She sensed me drinking her presence. "I wasn't expecting you to follow me out this soon," she purred as I wrapped my arms around her from behind. We kissed and then we proceeded on to breakfast. We do have to go to work that morning and we didn't have enough time for good morning sex.

_Sex._ That is all we're having. And we both know it. At the end of a particularly tiring shift for either of us, we would end up in one of our apartments, tumbling under the sheets. It was unfeeling, hurried, and devoid of emotion. Our relationship wasn't romantic… just intimate.

Why, you ask? Simple. _She's not Stella_. She knows it; I know it – we accept it. We have been here before. It became clear to us that we don't have much in common and that even if we tried to make this work, it'll fail anyway. My heart was not in it.

Half the time I'm with Peyton, I wished that when I wake up, I'd find a familiar mess of wild curls on the pillow beside me. That I would reach out to that figure and feel that smoothness and softness I know so well. I longed for the scent of coconut to tickle my nose. And most of all, my hands wanted so much to feel a slight bump – my baby inside her tummy.

Yesterday, I worked a case involving a murdered pregnant woman and her estranged teenage son. In interrogation, the teen said, "Do you know what it feels like to grow up in a home with a different father every three years and new siblings every year? I think I have fourteen other brothers and sisters out there in the system, on the streets because that bitch is merely a baby factory. She never took care of us after she squeezed us from between her legs." His eyes were full of rage. Probably the same look he had as he pushed the kitchen knife through his mother a total of 13 times. "I tried to look after all my half-brothers and half-sisters before she sold them to strangers together with her nth husband. She then disappears for a year and then comes back – pregnant _again_ – looking for me begging for ten grand. She said she wants to bail out her new man. I wasn't hearing any of it."

"She's still your mother," Detective Jennifer Angell said as I observed behind the glass.

The kid sighed. "She worried about a guy who never cared for her while everyday while I go insane thinking about all my brothers and sisters out there. Does she think about them? About me? It's heartbreaking to imagine my youngest sister being mistreated in some group home or my youngest brother unable to enjoy being a kid because their mother is a good for nothing junkie. I did that unborn child in her womb a favor."

I had to go away. I understand his pain. Although I haven't seen my son or daughter, it breaks my heart when I think about him or her. That night in the locker room, I just sat there and cried. I didn't care who saw me or who offered to listen to my demons. I needed a good cry even if there is no shoulder to cry on. Walking to the sidewalk to hail a cab, I looked around.

New York is a big city. The USA is a big country. And all I'm looking for is a little sandbox in this big, big park. If it's a girl, I pictured her as a toddler with a strawberry ice-crème cone in her hand, her face smiling up to the sun and her pigtails dancing happily in the wind. Her green eyes would be like her mother's. If it's a boy, then he would be sitting in a sandbox playing with his toy trucks and plastic blocks. And I would be there taking pictures of every special moment of his life. _But I'm not_. Instead of being there for them, I'm here… in the middle of New York, wallowing in self-pity.

I found myself in Peyton's arms that night. I told the driver her address instead of mine. She wasn't at all surprised that I was there at her doorstep like a lost puppy. It was hard for her, too; she did the autopsy of the mother and I saw the pain in her face as she made the incisions. We needed the touch that night. I needed to forget.

I looked at Peyton from across the table and she was smiling. But last night, we both knew that that was the end of the road for our awry excuse of a relationship.

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_Can't stay too long. School's calling. :)_


	16. His First Words

**_A/N: Hey! I was going through the parts that I've finished and I realized it was hella long. And I mean, 30-ish pages long. So here's the thing, I have thought of three things._**

**_I can somehow make this into a completed story somewhere and then continue on to a sequel. That's option one. Two, I can chop off entire chapters – something that is difficult and is potentially destructive to the plot. And final, I update EVERYDAY with at least 4 pages of material each to get over with this right away. I'm sensing that some of my readers are getting bored :( -- I hope not. _**

**_So there, tell me what you think. I feel sorta bad about this – being long and possibly "boring". But I hope you do stick around. Thank you!

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_And no matter how I try  
You're always on my mind_

My job at the university went well and I've saved enough to rent our own little place. At first, Andrea and Joel didn't want us to go. Margot cried all night when I broke the news to them. But Dylan was growing up so fast and sooner or later; we do need to be on our own.

Some of my students became very fond of him. I would bring him with me when my babysitter cancelled (which was more times than she said she'd come) and he would stay in the department daycare. Yep, they actually have a daycare courtesy of the teachers' cooperative. There are times when my students would come to me for consultation and stay to play with Dylan and his blocks and trucks. He likes the attention, especially if the guys carry him and play helicopter or if the girls dance him around.

"Miss Bonasera," one of my students said after giving Dylan a cookie she baked, "he's just the cutest little boy!" She knelt down and gave him a raspberry against his plump cheek. "Oh I'm so in love with him," she and her friends were gushing like high school girls.

His first word was 'mommy'; it wasn't much of a surprise. Then it was 'cheeks'. He said that while he was pointing to his bear. It actually came out as 'teeks' more than 'cheeks'. I was crying like a baby when he woke me up one morning, jumping on my bed exclaiming, "Mommy! Mommy!" _His first words._

He thought he did something wrong when tears came from my eyes. He started tearing up, his big hazel eyes shiny with moisture. "Mommy," he said again, followed by his baby talk.

"Oh, Dylan," I said, embracing him tightly. "Shush, baby. It's okay – don't cry. Mommy's just very happy." He looked at me again with a smile; he understood. I gave him a kiss on his nose and he hugged me back.

When I look into his eyes, I see Mac staring back at me every time. I already told myself that I am never forgetting him. Why should I? He gave me the love of my life, my pride and joy, _our_ son. Sometimes, I would mumble under my breath, "Where are you when I need you, Mac?" out of frustration over some of my students. They remind me of Danny when he's all hot with a lead on a slam-dunk case: overeager and perseverant when it comes to convincing me that they have the right hunch. I'm sure that if Mac was here, they would shut up with one glare.

When Dylan turned one year old, we had a little party in our new apartment. There were a number of my students who dropped by to greet him and gave him their presents. The living room floor was knee-deep in wrapping paper and ribbon after they left. Some of them bought cake and cookies, and ice-crème and candy. Dylan was all smiles that whole day. He was running around as much as he could.

Margot was very happy to be playing with her little playmate again. She had been busy with school and Dylan's always with me at work. She gave him a beach ball with stars on it. He played with it as soon as one of my students blew air in it. He's growing up so fast that I bought him new shoes, which he wore and never took off until he was in bed.

But it was Andrea and Joel's present that took me by surprise. Not to mention it was the first sign that my past was catching up to me. Dylan placed the box on the floor and tore at the blue wrapping paper. Inside was a toy squad car complete with the siren and a policeman inside the car. It also came with a plastic badge. And if that wasn't enough, it resembled an NYPD badge.

"Mommy!" he exclaimed, standing up and showing me the badge. In cop terms, he _flashed_ me his badge. His smile was ear-to-ear. Then he picked up the toy car and ran around the room, making siren sounds. I walked in his room not long after and he was there on his bed with his pillows in a square – Mr. Cheeks in the middle. The toy police car was on one side and he was still holding the badge.

"What are you up to, birthday boy?" I asked, sitting beside him and ruffling his hair.

"Mr. Cheeks, under 'rest," he said proudly. He could talk a bit clearly now and he has learned some words from watching TV. Being around college teachers help a lot, too. It's funny how out of all the words, 'you're under arrest' is included early in his growing vocabulary.

It was clear to me that the police set was his favorite toys. He never went anywhere without his badge; I actually showed him how to clip it to his waist. Every time we went to the park, he had his police car with him, arresting all his stuffed farm animals and the dog we adopted, Blue. When we were picking out dogs in the pound, Dylan pointed to it and happily said, "Blue!" which came out like 'boo'. And there, the name stuck and we adopted the little cocker spaniel. Actually, I had set my eyes to a less-hairy dog but when we left the wing where the cocker spaniel was, Dylan started crying. We went back over there and after I saw him with the dog in his chubby arms, I fell in love with it.

Exam week is always stressful; making tests, going over all my notes and lessons and not to mention checking all those essay papers at the end of the week. When I left NYPD, I thought I left doing paperwork behind me. But hey, a classroom full of young minds with a lot to say and a lot of paper to burn is the same as a weeklong murder investigation. I would bring work home with me some times; those running for honors would give me three pages worth of explanation to a single question.

On weekends, our next-door neighbor Bonnie would baby-sit Dylan for a few bucks while I poured over the test results. I would lock the door to my room in case he leads her upstairs in their cops and robbers game. But one day, he was so persistent that I had to let him in.

He knocked on the door and cried out, "LAPD, Mommy!" I smiled to myself as I cracked open the door. He reminded me of the times when I banged on numerous doors, with my gun out and ready to strike.

"Why do you need me to open the door, officer?" I said looking down at his round face, his badge shiny on his pocket and Blue on his heels. I could hear Bonnie watching Law and Order reruns downstairs.

"I'm a cop," he said with a smile, holding up his badge, "See." When I closed my eyes, I could clearly see Mac, standing there – flashing his badge, a sure hand on his holster. I opened them again and saw those same eyes looking up at me in concern.

I just broke down. I fell on my wobbly knees and hugged Dylan tight. I knew I was staining his Justice League shirt with my tears but I couldn't help but cry. "What I do?" he asked, puzzled, as I felt his arms around my neck.

"Nothing, baby," I said against his neck. "I love you."

"Love ya, too, Mommy!" he said, giving me a kiss on the cheek before running after Blue.

He's like Mac in every way. And I'm happy that he is. That way, his memory stays fresh with me and one day, I would tell Dylan how great a man his father is.

_No you just can't run away..._

I've often wondered when he'd start asking questions about Mac. I knew that no amount of preparation would ready me when that time comes but still, it scared me. Dylan looks and sometimes _acts_ like Mac. Sure, he gets his occasional tantrum and like his father, he softens up to a little peace offering and sweet talk.

I've read stuff about telling the truth to your child in books and on the Net. Some of my friends who were in the same predicament as I was have shared their experiences with me. I thought it would come later on. Boy, was I wrong.

It was Margot's birthday. Andrea and Joel organized a party in their backyard for her and her classmates and friends. The birthday girl personally invited Dylan and I to come to her party. He was only too happy to pick out a gift for her. Even Blue was invited. It's been a very long time since I even _saw_ a children's party and it was funny to me because before, I would be a mere babysitter. But now, I'm one of the parents.

Margot was running around with her friends while Dylan was on the picnic table, eating ice-crème with Andrea and myself. They were still so energetic after three party games and eating. When Joel was about to hang the piñata and Margot cried out, "Daddy!"

I smiled at them. I saw how close they are to each other and how much love they have. It kind of made me miss Mac more. Even before Dylan, he has always been like a father in and around our team. I know that if we're not in the office, Danny calls us 'parents'. I presume that they are our kids. I know how Mac takes care of all of us; he would still check up on our work even if he's knee-deep in his already.

Dylan looked up from his ice-crème, bib all messy with the chocolate and to my surprise, he mimicked Margot and said, "_Daddy?"_ very clearly. Andrea froze and almost dropped her camera. She looked at me; I looked at her. We were silent for a few seconds whilst Dylan just continued crying out, "Daddy, daddy, daddy!"

At that point, I didn't know what to say or do. I was overwhelmed by the pace of things that all I could do was burst into tears and hug him. My heart was breaking. He kept on mumbling that one word while looking at Margot in Joel's arms. I didn't even know he understood what that word meant. It was the first time he ever said it.

"Daddy," he said again with an obvious sob.

"So sorry, baby," I murmured against his cheek. I was powerless, weak and _I missed Mac more._

That night, he slept in my arms. I watched him sleep, stroking his hair, his cheek, kissing him about every five minutes. He stopped crying on the way home – I continued on crying until he fell asleep.

_And that there is no easy way_

It's August again. This is the second August where I found myself strolling and going around Toys'R'Us. It's my fourth time going in here on a reason unrelated to work. I would go here during the Holidays and on Augusts… to buy a gift for my little boy or girl, wherever he or she is. I don't know when exactly the child is born; just _August_.

It's bittersweet when I come here; kids with their parents browsing and buying toys and such. I would spend hours here, picking out the perfect gift; something that would even make me happy. But the thing is, the only thing that would do that is to see that my kid is happy. In my heart, I know s/he is. Stella would make sure of that.

Personally, I wanted our kid to be a boy. I would call our baby 'he' or 'him' when I think of them. Last Christmas, I bought him a Blue's Clues Mailbox toy. I got the idea when the kid of my next-door neighbor was dragging a Blue's Clues plush doll one time. I know that it's a popular educational show and I'm pretty certain that Stella would let him watch that. On his first birthday, last year, I got him a SpongeBob coverlet. Flack told me about it when I asked him for a great present for a kid. He said he gave his nieces and nephews one each last Christmas. "The thing looks kinda scary but the kids love it," he said. "It's like havin'a bed with eyes. My sister got freaked out at first."

"It won't traumatize a one-year-old though?" I asked him.

"A one-year-old?" he said, finishing his coffee. "Nah, half the time, they don't know what they're lookin' at." He refilled both our cups and sat back down. "What for, Mac? I don't remember you…" then he paused as I bit my lip and looked down. "I see. Well, I'm sure he or she will like it."

Those presents are wrapped and kept at the back of my closet. I take them out every once in a while and that brings a smile on my face after a long day at work. I kept telling myself that someday, I'd get to meet him.

It wasn't easy accepting that he's growing up without knowing who I am. It scared me to think that he would recognize another man as his father and think of me as a nobody who didn't care. I have seen my share of sons (and daughters) hating their absentee parent enough to renounce them. But I have seen some cases where they reunite and accept each other as if nothing happened. I hope that'll be my case – I can't stand to have my own flesh and blood drive me away.

My whole team pitched in to cheer me up. Lindsey bought a cake complete with two candles on it. Sheldon and Danny bought little gifts, too. Don brought some of his mom's chocolate chip cookies. Even Adam placed a cake ornament shaped like a police car in the middle of the mocha cake.

This Christmas, there'll be another unwrapped box in my closet. Probably a kiddy bike this year. Yeah, that would be nice.

* * *

_Yeah, no more Peyton. Hahaha, and yes – she became rebound. But as we all know (or some of us), getting off rebound would need some time off for yourself first._

_I'm really scared of this. I need your opinions of what I am to do next. Please read the A/N and tell me what you think. _


	17. Family

_**A/N: Hey! First of all, a HUGE THANK YOU for all the ideas, comments, reviews and insights you gave me. They were a big help in my problem. I kinda got carried away with this particular story – plus reading Stephen King makes you wanna write long pieces. One more thing, thanks for the support. I swear that I will do everything to make this one of the "best" SMACked fics.**_

_**Again, 5 pages for all of you. Enjoy!

* * *

**_

For some reason, Dylan didn't want a party on his 2nd birthday. He wanted some "Mommy time" – just the two of us. I must admit that I haven't changed in the workaholic department. I've signed up for the summer classes in the university. I guess my baby felt that I've been tired and we do need more time together.

I can't believe he's already two years old. _A big boy now_. I was so happy waking up that day to the smell of coconut in his hair. He must've crawled into the bed with me in the middle of the night. He was squirming in my arms. When I opened my eyes, I met his big hazel ones, "Hi Mommy!"

"Hey there, birthday boy," I managed to squeak out so early in the morning. I planted a kiss on his forehead.

He chuckled and sat up. His hair was sticking up everywhere and he was still dressed in his Pokemon pajamas. He waited for me to sit up as well. "Thank you, Mommy. Hugs!" he wrapped his arms around me and I did the same to him. I spotted his trusty bear Mr. Cheeks on the foot of the bed.

I gathered him to my lap and we just cuddled. I'm such a lucky person to have this little blessing.

"Mommy time?" he asked, hopeful.

"Yes," I replied and he smiled widely. "But presents first!" I got off the bed and went over to my closet to get his gifts, which were a new pair of shoes _again_ – his old ones that I got about a month ago were too small now – SpongeBob coloring books and the DVD set of Barney, his favorite show.

"Yay, pressie!" he said clapping his eyes and bouncing on the bed. I placed the big box beside him and he tore into it right away. As soon as he spotted the purple, he broke into the song, "_I love you, you love me. We're a happy family. With a great big hug and a kiss from me to you…_" We sang the last part together. "Love you, Mommy."

I can't help but tear up every time he tells me that he loves me. Because in his innocence, I can feel the sincerity. He doesn't know the horrors of the outside; he doesn't have to. His smile brightens up my whole world. I ruffled his hair as he spread the crayons (all 64 of them) and coloring books on my bedspread. He looked at me again, handing me a green crayon. His right hand was already busy turning Patrick Star some shade of orange.

Oh how proper. Green is the color of victory in ancient Greece. Orange combines the energy of red and the happiness of yellow and it represents enthusiasm, fascination, creativity, determination, and success.

Everything about Dylan represents all those. He exudes such positive energy, it makes my heart melt. I just wish Mac was here to see that. He would be very proud of our boy. _Our boy._ That sounded good. _Very good._

Before I cleaned up the mess we made, I fished out one more gift from by side table drawer. Dylan was helping me gather the pieces of paper we dropped on the floor. The little rectangular box was no larger than a paperback novel and it was wrapped only with a ribbon. "Mommy, what's that?" he asked, sitting back beside me.

I actually bought him a tie. Yes, _a tie_. It's a kids' tie, vertical blue and silver stripes – identical to what his bear wears. He would look very dapper and handsome with it. Like his father always does. I unwrapped it and held it out for him to see. "This, Dylan… is a tie," I explained. I proceeded to put it on him, "You wear it like this. But you always have to have mommy to put it on you, okay?" He was watching intently, his eyes following my every move.

After I finished, he felt the silk and asked, "Why?" I was taken aback by his question. Maybe he didn't like it. I don't know exactly why he's asking me this but I know what I was going to say.

"Well, these are very special to Mommy. Your… uh… your _Daddy_," he perked up as soon as he heard that, "your Daddy used to wear it a lot. There are times when I take it off of him after work." He nodded in understanding. "He looked very nice, wearing a suit and a tie everyday." I guess what I was trying to say was this is the closest I can get to the cliché scene of a wife helping her husband put on his tie.

"Daddy," he said, touching the material, "likes ties." I nodded. "I like em, too!" Dylan said with a smile before giving me another one of his warm hugs.

I've always dreamt of the day when father and son would meet. By chance, by arrangement or simply because I went back to New York and to my old life. I'm uncertain how they would react to each other. In my dreams, it's always a happy picture. But in reality, things can go both ways. I didn't tell Mac to wait for me and even if I did two years is a very long time to wait for someone. And if I have told him to forget about me, he probably would've; after all, I left – I hurt him. Yet, one thing he wouldn't ever stop thinking about… _his child_. My Dylan.

The year went by so fast for the both of us. Dylan couldn't wait to start school when he turned three and he wanted so much to learn how to read. I taught him as much as I can, and as much as he could manage. But until now, he's more on 'reading' the pictures than the words. The daycare had an unlimited supply of Dora the Explorer and Blue's Clues. So at least there, he learns new words – English _and_ Spanish nonetheless.

"Hola, Mommy!" he greeted me one time when I picked him up. Hmm… my baby here could very well be trilingual if ever I teach him Greek. He has developed a liking of French fries and cheeseburgers – not necessarily health foods but hey, he's three… I let him have whatever he wants. "Just s'long I brush my teefs," he said.

My teaching job at the university was going so well. I was teaching Biophysics to the graduating class as well as Natural Science to the freshmen. My background as an NYPD CSI earned me respect from my co-teachers and the student body alike. The classes that were assigned to me are usually the ones who are most likely to follow the Forensics path.

A lot of my students have asked me if I worked this case or that whilst I was in New York. The most popular amongst them was the Henry Darius case, the Midtown nurses as well as the murder of Alexa Endecott. It was broadcasted nationwide especially when he fled the state. What surprised me was how well informed they are about those cases. Apparently, some of them are regulars of the Crime Library site on the Internet.

"Ma'am," one of my students said in our end-of-the-week roundup, "I'm from Miami originally and Lt. Horatio Caine is a very well-respected member of the Miami-Dade community. How was it like working with him?"

"Well, I've worked with a lot of great and admirable men in the field of law enforcement," I began, "Lt. Horatio Caine is definitely one of them. Miami-Dade is very fortunate to have someone so focused, very determined, humble and amazingly polite in their roster." Yes, I have seen and met my share of great men.

"Could you drop names, Miss Bonasera?" a male student asked. "Just in case we run into them if ever we do pursue forensic science."

I had to chuckle. "Oh _connections_, you mean?" I said and the whole class gave a loud 'yes'. "Well, I'd rather not. I learned the ropes the hard way. And I have to say that that is the best way. In that field, you can never be too trusting and never let a shiny name with a shiny badge fool you or scare you. Like in any occupation, you'll find generations and clans inside the police department. Some of them are cocky as hell but some just want to make their _own_ mark in that world. Now, being a newbie doesn't always mean you're there to obey what is told to you. You should listen to what the science tells you and then _follow _it. Yet, you can only go too far. After all, you're being paid with taxpayers' money. You should also learn to obey an order from a supervisor. And one more thing, the force is like one big _fa-mi-ly._ You got to stick together and they always… _always _have your back."

I bit my lip to keep the emotions in. I realized that I was talking about my old team. Flack, Danny, Sheldon, Lindsey… and Mac. Come to think of it, before Dylan came along, they're the only family I've known. Probably, the motherhood training came from being a mommy to my teammates. Right, Danny and Flack (he's an essential part of our circle even if he's not a CSI) can be like mischievous twin brothers at times. Sheldon and Lindsey are their older siblings. And Mac? Well, if I'm their mother – that would make him their _father_.

Career month was one of the most-awaited events of the whole university. The administration would invite professionals from different fields to speak in front of both the freshmen and the graduating batches about their jobs and experiences. The student body and the Science-oriented orgs around campus petitioned to have a CSI guest speaker this year since the interest have been brewing for a long time and a lot of the young people would want to enter the field in the future.

The dean knew of me being a CSI some years. This year, she also wanted me to speak alongside the guest they have invited. And I agreed to do it.

"Good," Dr. Harrington, the dean, said. "I was informed that you were formerly with the NYPD. The CSI we have invited hails from New York as well."

_Really?_ "Well, there are a lot of precincts in one borough alone. I don't think…" but my blood went cold as soon as she told me that they've invited a NYPD officer. I had to take this chance. "Who is it?"

She rifled through the folders on her very messy desk and came up with the name. "Detective 1st Grade Mac Taylor. Do you know him?"

Blood drained out of my face. Oh no… _not him_. I wrung my hands on my lap to keep them from shaking while I managed to say, "I may have heard of him." That's a lie, of course. I know him much more than anybody in the world. And he knew me better than anyone else as well. What I just said was the understatement of the year, I bet.

"That's great," the dean said. "You won't be needing such a long time to prepare then. He'll be arriving one day before the symposium; meet him then so you can divide and conquer." I exited her office to my cubicle in the faculty lounge. Andrea was there entertaining Margot and Dylan while waiting for me.

"You look distracted, Stella," Andrea said when she spotted me coming over to them. Dylan flew into my arms and gave me a kiss. "Everything okay?"

Dylan tried to hold on to my arms but they were too weak to hold him up. I sat down on my chair and stared aimlessly on the floor, ignoring her question. The information hasn't sunk in yet. The career conference is in five days. I wasn't sure if I could face him yet. Three years have passed but the memories remained fresh in my mind… in my heart.

"Stella?" Andrea repeated. "I guess it's safe to say that everything is _not_ okay." With that, I nodded. She sat on the table beside me and said to Margot, "Princess, can you take Dylan over to the playpen? You guys stay there for a while until Mama gets you. Can you do that for me?"

"Okay, Mama," the now nine-year-old said, taking my son's hand in hers and leading him to the playpen in the corner of the room.

"Want to talk about it?" Andrea said.

My hands were shaking so bad that I couldn't even hold my handbag. I couldn't string words into sentences. All I could manage was, "This week… career talk… _Mac_… he's," and I broke down.

Andrea sat there with her eyes as big as saucers. "Mac? Guest speaker for the CSI lecture? No…" she almost screamed. "I mean, I heard the visitor will be from New York but… of all the people?"

Even I couldn't understand the twist of fate. I guess this was the punishment I was due to have for leaving like that; making judgments so haphazardly. The past finally caught up with me – and this time, there was no way out.

The drive to our apartment was filled with Dylan's little songs. My baby seemed so happy all the time where here I was, his mother, crying inside. I put him to bed that night and he asked me if he could spend the night in the big bed, my bed. "Alonely," he said, holding his arms up and asking me to carry him.

Yes, I did feel lonely. I needed my son with me… for strength. I know that the time has finally come and there is no more hiding. They've been away from each other long enough – _I have been keeping them apart long enough._ I couldn't sleep that night; too distracted. But Dylan was so peaceful, so innocent… so beautiful. I can't for Mac to see him.

* * *

_bigmelinafan – lol, I'm not chopping chapters anymore. Yay!_

_Paly – yeah, I figured that some stories do stretch to 160 chapters. But most of them have little content per chapter so… yeah, I'll be making this as interesting as possible per chapter._

_Night Shadows – I feel the same way. I felt that it has stalled out. But I hope this chapter kept it going forward again._

_Everybody – thank you!_


	18. Veneziano

_**A/N: Thank you once again for all the great reviews. I'm happy that this story is going forward again. I have decided to update at least twice a week. Would that be okay? **_

**_So… here we are; we're approaching _the_ moment. Let me know what you think of this part and we'll go from there. By the way, I've added this question in the forums but for everybody else: Please comment about Dylan? Thanks!_**

_**Enjoy!**_

_I look in your eyes_

The team said it themselves, I need a break. Danny volunteered to take over for a week while I attended a college career conference in Los Angeles. Lindsey persuaded me to extend the three days into ten so I can enjoy the LA sun. And guess what, _Mac Taylor agreed._ The school said they would shoulder the first three days and after that, I'm paying my own lodging. No problem.

I was invited by the LA City University for a career conference. I can say I do have my share of talks and such similar to this so I was more than happy to oblige. Anything to get my mind off things.

I'd leave in three days; to arrive a day before the conference. But my bags were packed already. When I was pulling down my suitcase from the top shelf of the closet, I saw my still-wrapped gifts, neatly sitting there, waiting for someone to open them. They do make me smile when I see them. It meant that somewhere… I have a son or daughter somewhere. And Stella's out there too.

On the boxes were cards: _To you. Love, Daddy._ My hands always shook when I write those five letters. I may not have them with me but I can feel them all the time. There is this certain feeling wherein instead of feeling sad or sorry for myself, I'm actually happier. I rearranged the packages again (by color, this time) and looked around my room. Yeah, a few overturned toy trucks here and there wouldn't hurt.

I arrived in LA very early in the morning. I forgot how brightly the sun shines – being in the lab, in New York for too long. I checked in to the hotel room the University got for me and I called in at around 10am to arrange a meeting. The conference was tomorrow and it wouldn't hurt to get comfortable with my surroundings.

Dr. Renee Harrington was the dean of the College of Science, the department holding the career talk. She was a tall woman, blond hair to her shoulders and very graceful and professional. She greeted me with a warm smile in her office when I showed up that afternoon. The University grounds were wide and well kept. Two buildings flank a track oval and the administration/Science building was situated on the far left of the block. There were some students walking around, sitting under trees with books on their laps, laughing, eating, debating… it was a typical carefree feeling – when all you care about is your grade in the midterm or the practicum, secretly competing with the person sitting next to you.

It reminded me again of Stella, for some reason. She would simply stand beside me in silence with a case folder in her hand – and I could hear the gears in her head going into overdrive. Then she would look at me as if saying, "I'll bet that I can crack this case before you do." I would be looking back with the expression, "Not if I can help it."

The Dean's office was easy to find. Not every room in the building has a map of Middle-Earth on them. She was waiting for me, with two cups of tea and a bagel. "Ah, Detective Taylor," she said with an outstretched hand. "I am Renee Harrington. _Renee_."

I took her hand and shook it. "Please call me Mac. Thank your for inviting me."

"Oh _thank you_ for accepting. Oh kindly sit down," she said pointing to the armchair in front of her neat desk. "I hope the California weather is treating you well."

"Yes, it is," I answered, taking a sip of the tea. "New York needs more warm days like this." We talked some more… some commonplace matters and schedules and my ideas for tomorrow's conference.

"Would you like me to show you around the campus, Mac?" she offered after we finished our little snack.

"That would be great, thank you." She first took me to the Chemistry labs that were then occupied by sophomores. It was impressive; very clean, up-to-date and complete equipment and spacious. I would show my appreciation from time to time and Dr. Harrington – _Renee – _would show me more of the facilities. The second floor housed the faculty lounge. She was particularly proud of that as well as their active faculty cooperative.

"We believe that teaching other kids doesn't have to mean you have to leave your own at home with a nanny," she explained as she showed me the playpen. Three children were in there watching some little girl and her friend monkey run around. "This way, these kids would have a considerable head start in the learning ladder." I reckoned the children were between the ages 3 to 6, about the same age as _my_ son or daughter. Renee might've noticed that my mind was not with me. Her next question wasn't much of help either, "Do you have kids, Mac?"

My head snapped up to look at her. Her searching eyes bore into me. "Uh… no. No, I don't," _a lie._ And saying those words hurt me. "Do you?"

"Yes," she gleefully answered, her brown eyes lighting up. "I have two girls in high school. Anyway," before she could finish that, she spotted a colleague coming out of the teachers' lounge. She was the mother of one of the kids in the playpen. "Ah, Professor Andrea Moore."

The short brunette wheeled around and although I must be mistaken, she _froze_ when she saw me. Her jaw dropped and her eyes were wide as if in shock. "Dean Harrington," she said breathlessly as we walked towards her.

"May I introduce to you Detective Mac Taylor from the NYPD," she said as I offered my hand to the other woman. She took it but on her face was a cross between a forced smile and paleness.

The dean explained that she's an assistant professor for Natural Science 2 (Biology and Geology). "Hi," she finally said, "You're here for the conference tomorrow, am I right? We're so glad to have you here."

She didn't stop shaking my hand. It's as if she's panicking. When she did, I replied, "Yes, I am and thank you for the welcome."

"I was just about to show him our faculty daycare," Renee interrupted. It was getting awkward anyway. "Since you have just dropped off Margot, would you mind to show us around in there?"

Once again, her face paled. "Oh geez… uh, Professor Penn is in there, feeding her newborn," she said, "I don't think she wants anybody in there as of now. But if you want, I can show you more… uh, around campus. I don't have classes and I was just about to drop my evaluation at your desk," she continued pointing to the folder in her hand.

"That'll be great, Professor Moore," Renee said in all professionalism. She reminded me of what my team would always tell me: _Lighten up, Mac._ Maybe this is how I am with them. "I'll catch up with you as soon as I go over your notes. Mac, I'll leave you with Andrea."

She went on her way back to her office leaving me with a little spooked out Andrea Moore. She still had that goofy smile on her face. "So, Professor Moore."

"Oh, it's Andrea," she laughed out loud when Renee was out of earshot. "We only have that professional crap whenever she's around."

I laughed at that. It's the same back home… once we get out of the confines of the lab, we drop the 'Detectives' and go on calling each other by our last names or nicknames. "It'll be Mac then."

Andrea proceeded on to take me around the floor, to the Science Exhibit room, the geology museum and their robotics lab. Compared to my earlier guide, Andrea Moore proved to be more enjoyable. You can see that she was sincerely proud of not only the facilities but also of the students of the university. Her eyes would light up every time she talked about where her students are now.

We were on the third floor of the building when Renee Harrington caught up to us. Andrea straightened up right away. We were laughing when I was telling her anecdotes about my job back in New York. "Well, I see that Professor Moore has done a good job making our school here look good," she said in jest – at least she tried. "Would you like to see our Natural Sciences classes? They will be the same young men and women who will attend your talk tomorrow."

"That would be swell," I said suddenly fighting back the urge to laugh with Andrea. She guided us through the long corridor of rooms, filled with freshmen and some seniors in their biophysics lectures. "This takes me back. I took Physics as my undergraduate before I enlisted and shipped out. I remember all those sleepless nights in the library for a single question, 100-point midterm the next day."

"Tell me about it, Mac," Andrea burst out laughing as if forgetting whom we were with. "I majored in Geology and I literally brought a change of clothes with me come exam week."

I saw her glance at Renee and visibly shrink. "Hmm… interesting, Professor Moore. Anyway… _Mac_, this room over here is our biggest classroom. It is constructed like a movie theater: the teacher situated front and center with elevated seats per row. We section our 1,075 freshmen based on their average grades. This class is the crème de la crème. Not to mention being taught by one of our best new teachers."

With that, Andrea squeaked like a frightened Mr. Jingles from 'The Green Mile'. She had her hands covering her mouth and her eyes were wide again. Renee asked what was up but she remained silent with the same expression on her roundish face. "Uhm, do you want anything from the cafeteria? It's only downstairs to the left. Coffee? Cheeseburgers maybe?"

Renee looked annoyed. "Maybe later, _Andrea_," and that she was annoyed, "after we show Detective Taylor the university's best."

There was electricity between the two women. It was like Andrea Moore was the helpless prey of the hawk-like Renee Harrington. "Lead the way then, ladies," I said before this could get physical. The dean held the door ajar and we caught what they were talking about inside:

"Of all the theories we have covered, Miss," a female student was saying, "which of them do you actually abide with?" I was personally impressed that this early, a student would bravely ask an instructor that.

"This is our Natural Science 1 class," the dean explained opening the door wider. "Chemistry and Physics."

I took a peek and I saw at least 75 young men and women inside, some sitting and some standing near the front. I couldn't see their teacher yet but I was interested in what he or she would say.

And it was nothing – or _no one_ – that I would expect.

"Good question, Erika. But I guess you already know this one. It's Veneziano's String Theory of Quantum Physics. _Everything is connected._"

_Lunaris – thanks. Wow, I know the feeling – waiting for the next episode of CSI:NY. Thanks for feeling the same way for this story of mine._

_Mj – hahaha, Dylan is Mac's kid after all. He takes after him or Stella of both of them ;)_

_Mandi – on Dylan, I wish I could hear him talk really. In my head it's so cute hahaha._

_Reine – you thought last chappie was a chiffhanger? How about this one?_


	19. I'm Not Married

_**A/N: Whee! So here we are again. I went SCUBA diving over the weekend. Want pics? No underwater pictures yet but if you're interested to see the prettiness of my country, The Philippines, head on over to: tonzkee08dotmultiplydotcom.**_

_**Come on … we all know who the new teacher is. A clue was the theory itself. me thanks my Physics professor So why is it a cliffy? Hahahahahah… what does that make this then? Vertical Limit? Naw… just tell me what you think but don't strangle me afterwards, 'kay?**_

_**Oh, Dylan's here!**_

_**Enjoy!**_

_**CSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINY**_

Every end of the week, I would hold a round up of all the topics taken up. And if time allowed – which was almost always – it was open forum for my freshmen students and me. One thing I love about them is their eagerness to prove themselves. First year in college, new everything and for the first time, people will listen to what they have to say. They've earned it… the wisdom and the experience rewarded them.

Today wasn't any different. Tomorrow is career day and every single one of them signed up for my forensics talk. As if our everyday lectures weren't enough. A day will not pass without a few of them asking if, "Are you part of this case, Miss Bonasera?" or "Ma'am, have your worked with so-and-so?" It's amazing how well-informed they are in the field of forensics.

"Miss Bonasera," one of my students, Erika stood up and asked, "of all the theories we have covered, Miss, which of them do you actually abide by?"

I smiled at her question. Because I knew that there was only one answer to that. It's neither Darwin's Natural Selection nor Einstein's Relativity. It is, "Veneziano's String Theory of Quantum Physics. _Everything is connected._" And of course, they would probably know that already. Every time I give them a sample problem that they have a hard time to analyze, this is what I tell them. Like with Mac back in the day, it became my signature line around here in the academe.

Just then, the door of the room opened and the dean let herself in with Andrea and a… _special guest._ "Oh Miss Bonasera," dean Renee Harrington said and the whole class quieted down to look at the visitors. "Oh please don't let us interfere with your discussions. Go on, please continue."

But I wasn't hearing any of it. After three long and lonely years, there he was… staring straight at me with wide eyes and a pale face. My hands began to shake and I could feel beads of sweat run down my back. The room was spinning but he was still standing there, staring with a blank expression; I could imagine I was wearing the same one.

"People," the dean said, getting everybody's attention. "We have over here to my left, Detective Mac Taylor from the NYPD. He will be the one leading tomorrow's forensic science talks together with Miss Bonasera." Our eyes met as she said that. I think nobody told him yet. Andrea looked like a little girl behind him, supporting herself with her arms on one of the chairs. ""Why won't you should them how fine you students are. And Miss Bonasera, please continue on with your discussion."

"Miss Bonasera?" Erika said tapping me on the shoulder. I snapped out of the trance I – _we­ _– were in.

"Oh right, yes," I said in the most confident voice I could manage. It actually came out a shrilly squeak. "Why that theory? Well, since our dear dean Harrington has emphasized that tomorrow will be the orientation of every CSI-to-be in this room, let me go all forensics on you." I took a deep breath as I still felt his eyes on me, following every movement of my hands as I explained why I like that theory – _among obvious reasons._

"Now people, I might be teaching science but it won't hurt to get some of the seemingly metaphysical in as well," I began as the whole class took their seats. "In all my years as a crime scene investigator, I've seen it all. A big city like New York… there'll be a lot of nuts running around," and yes, there were. "I would have one case after another, husband killed wife, gang robbed a shoe store… thinking that all these are random spokes in the cycle of crime. Until I met my last boss in that field," I risked a glance up to _that former boss of mine _only to see that he took a seat with the two women with him. Uh oh, he'd be listening. "He would always tell me and the rest of the team that _everything is connected_. I would cringe when he said that – "Look for a connection between these two, Stella. You know that somewhere there, everything is connected" – until I got sick of it. I thought he was just making it up, that line. But when I _dug deeper_," one more thing he always said, "it angered me more."

They asked why it angered me but at the same time I was laughing. I was laughing because I cannot believe that I am about to say what I was about to say… in front of him, like an indirect confession of sorts. "I was furious at him and his 'borrowed' theory because of two things. One, because I realized that it's a real theory in physics," my students laughed at that, even the dean and Andrea were. And after it all died down, I finished, "And two, _because he was always right_." They were all looking at me with serious faces. "At the end of the day, you'll realize that everything really is connected."

I smiled genuinely. This time, I was looking straight at him. "Look at it like a game of Six Degrees of Separation. I know you all play that game with celebrities, right?" My female students agreed in unison. "Like here in this room… Erika, you're connected to Benjamin because you went to the same elementary school together. Benjamin, you and Miss Andrea over there do live in the same block. Andrea to me, we both grew up in an orphanage, you all know that." I paused and collected courage to say what I was to say next, "And hey, what do you know… I'm connected to Detective Taylor because we worked New York CSI." I wish I could say it to the world – that my connections with Mac Taylor are more than just a title and résumé. In the corner of my eye, I saw him stiffen in his seat. I know that he knows.

I could feel myself shaking in anxiety. There were still 15minutes to kill before class can officially end. And I don't see our 'guests' leaving any time soon. "Consider this as a primer for the conference tomorrow," I started. "If you are indeed planning to explore the field of forensics, reorient yourself fully to this very theory. Not just for the reasons of Physics – but also because of the science of evidence. The evidence and information an investigator collects are the dots that connect a suspect to a crime scene and to a victim. Working a handful of cases at once, bear in mind that no matter how big that apple is, you can always get to the core one way or another. A case can even help solve another case – if you see the _connection_," word of the day, "between the two." Oh my, I have more than enough of those during my time. "Three baseballs connect seemingly unrelated deaths of people who shouldn't even know each other. A key chain of the Statue of Liberty bridge two deaths on the Brooklyn Bridge. A tram driver and a young dancer end up dead in the middle of the night…"

"Killed by the same person," one of them finished. I glanced up again and found their seats empty. They already left. I released a breath that I was holding. Afterwards, I dismissed the class and sped over the faculty lounge. Thankfully, I didn't bump into any of them.

A sigh of relief escaped me when I saw my Dylan peacefully napping, Mr. Cheeks in his arms. I brushed a few strands of hair from his eyes and gave him a kiss. "The day has come, baby," I murmured feeling tears well up in my eyes. I felt someone watching us. _Andrea_.

"Hey, Stella," she said sitting down beside me. "Look, I didn't know the dean would… I'm really sorry. I should've known." She couldn't look at me straight in the eye so I held her hand to get her attention.

"It's fine, Andrea. It's bound to happen one of these days," I was hearing myself talk but it was like being underwater. "I just never expected it to be this… _early_," the last part I said in an almost whisper. I couldn't hold the tears anymore. Andrea let me cry on her shoulder like she would back in the orphanage.

I had to face it. I miss Mac. We may not be the same persons three years ago but to me, I'll take whatever Mac Taylor you give me. I want to make things right… for him and for me. _Especially for Dylan._

Before I went to bed that night, I prayed for strength. I know Mac would still accept me (I hope) even if I'm a bawling mess kneeling in front of him. But I want him to see that Stella's changed. She's stronger than before and I want to make him proud of all the things that I have done. I also prayed that he accepts Dylan… that I'm pretty sure he will.

_And if somebody loves you  
Won't they always love you_

I woke up extra early the next day. Normally, I would kill anyone who'd wake me up at 5:30 in the morning (unless it's Dylan wanting to go on the big people potty because his little boy potty is full). Adrenaline was running through my body that I couldn't even explain what I was feeling. Anxiety? Excitement? Or maybe both? I felt like a ball of energy ready to burst out of my shell. Dylan was up 8am and we were off to the university at 9:45am for the 10:30am briefing. Or shall I say, _a talk_ with Mac Taylor himself. Our slot was from 2pm to 5pm, including the open forum.

After I dropped of Dylan to the daycare, dean Harrington asked me to wait in the conference room. In there, a coffee pot was doing its thing and two boxes of donuts were sitting in the middle of the table. I sat down (actually on all the chairs one by one to calm my nerves) and rifled through my notes. There wasn't much really; if he's still the Detective Mac Taylor that I know, working with him on this matter wouldn't be the problem. The _other matter_, however, _does._

I finally settled down on the seat facing away from the door. I don't want him catching me off-guard. I don't want him to see how terrified I am. I don't want to see how scared he is. I was about to organize my notes yet again (I don't know, alphabetically maybe) when the door opened.

I shot up immediately and faced them. "Mac Taylor!" I said almost forcefully, holding out my hand to him. My eyes were fixed on his tie rather than his face. _Not just yet_.

What felt like eternity passed and then a familiar roughness encased my hand. "Stella Bonasera," I heard him say very carefully, each syllable like a chore to say. His hands were cold. My hands were, too.

"Well, looks like you guys don't need me for introductions after all," the dean said but we weren't paying attention. "I'll see you in the auditorium in four hours then." She left shortly after getting a donut from one of the boxes.

So there. We were alone again. After three years of not seeing each other, I have a lot to say to him and I know he has, too, if not more. The silence was deafening; the tension was so thick you can shoot right through it. Out of impulse, I started wringing my hands. I saw him looking at them and then I knew how to break the ice.

"I'm not married," I said holding up my left hand.

"What?" he responded as if in a trance.

I had to chuckle. His eyes were glazed and his voice was choked. "I said, I'm not married, Mac. That is what you're thinking, right?"

His eyes snapped to meet mine and vehemently answered, "It's not."

"Is so," I retaliated playfully. The mood is definitely becoming lighter.

I thought Mac was going to say something at that. But there was a pregnant pause until he sighed and said, "You know me too well, Stella."

And there is only on response to that, "_Always_."

Just like that, it was like nothing happened. We spent the bulk of the four hours chomping on the donuts, talking, bantering, butting heads and laughing until there were tears in our eyes. The actual planning for the symposium took a backseat to us catching up to each other. After all, working for 12 years, hundreds of cases solved as partners have to account for something. Yet, there was one topic that we were both obviously dancing around from… _the baby_.

The conference took off without a hitch. It was a full house and all of those who attended – students and faculty alike – were impressed of how smart Mac is. I know I was when I first met him. Professional, polite, respected, ethical and dignified. He had all the answers to the students' questions and more. I was there to share my experiences but he did most of the talking.

As planned, we closed shop at 5pm. Mac stayed for 30minutes more to personally talk with some of the students and faculty members. He was popular with the female percentage of the audience and I had to giggle at that. How could he not be? I went to my corner of the faculty room and found Dylan drawing something with a blue jumbo crayon on some yellow ruled pad. His eyebrows were scrunched together in concentration, his tongue sticking out from the right seam of his lips. He was holding – more like _gripping_ – the crayon with his fist, going up and down then left to right and in a circle.

His sweet little face lit up when he saw me coming closer. He put the crayon down and jumped off my chair and into my arms. "Mommy! I made choo sumthin'… lookie!" he said in a very excited voice. He flew back to my desk and pulled the paper and showed it to me. I had to stifle a laugh at the same time, my heart softened. Dylan was standing there with his wide smile and in his hands was the yellow paper and "MOMMY" written on it in thick blue. The funny thing was Dylan was holding it upside-down. "Margot teached me an' I'm practisizing all times," he said proudly.

I think he noticed my shoulders were shaking as if laughing. He frowned and asked, "Wacha matter, Mommy?" I couldn't answer without bursting out. He looked at his 'sign' and realized that he was holding it wrong. He righted it and blushed. "Sowwy," he said going red around the ears and laughing. "You wike it?"

"No baby, I don't," I said firmly, kneeling down to his level. He frowned again and seemed to be at the verge of tears so I said right away, "I _love_ it." That did the trick. He was back in my arms and I carried him over to my desk. "And its place is… here!" I said, pushing aside the professionally made sign (Stella Bonasera, Instructor, Natural Sciences) aside and tacked my _new_ sign on my corkboard. "Go home?" I asked my little boy.

His downy head shook in a definite "no". He started gathering up his jumbo crayons back in their box and said, "Dinner. Maconals." It took me a while to realize what was the second word… _McDonald's_. He _adored_ French fries and catsup.

Then it gave me an idea. For some reason, all apprehension left my system as soon as the light bulb was switched on. I was _excited_ even. Yes, _it was time_. I spotted Andrea come in and gather her things. She saw me and waved hello.

"It was a very nice talk the both of you led," she said. "And we had fun listening to your banters. Old habits die hard, ei?" We laughed. It's true – Mac and I _almost_ had an argument on stage over procedures in special cases… specifically, the Quinn Sullivan case. Even after all these years and the lesson we have both learned from that case, we're still at loggerheads about it. I couldn't stop smiling. "I know that look."

"What look?" I said innocently.

"So…" she said, sounding like an eager high school student, "are you going to tell him _now_?" I think my smile said everything. "I'll take Dylan to the car and wait for you there." Apart from Mac, Andrea is the only other person who can seemingly read my mind.

She whisked Dylan and his bag of tricks away to my car while I waited from Mac outside the Dean's Office. I could hear her enthusiastic thank you's and his humble don't mention it's. I knew that there was no turning back from this. Having cold feet is _not_ an option.

A few minutes later, I saw the knob turn and once again, I'm face to face with Mac Taylor. "Stella," he said breathlessly.

Without anything else, I said very quickly, "Doyouwanttohavedinnerwithus, Mac?"

"What?" he said with mirth. Yeah, I must've looked stupid, standing there in front of him, my hands in deep in my pockets and eyes wandering around on the floor.

With a sigh, I repeated what I said slowly. "I said, do you want to have dinner with us, Mac?" He stood there just looking at me. I was waiting for an answer; a blank stare wasn't going to cut it. "Well, if you have other plans, it's okay…" I made a move to turn away and walk to the direction of the main doors when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"I would love to, Stell," he almost whispered. My insides turned into mush when he called me by my nickname. "When and where?"

I finally met his eyes. They were soft and hopeful as I imagined mine were. "7pm. At the McDonald's branch near the public library." His smile was genuine; something which I returned.

"Sure. I'll see _you_ there," he said. And for the life of me, I could've sworn that with 'you' he meant not only me… but _our son_ as well.

_**CSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINY**_

_bigmelinafan – I actually plan to have Dylan and Andrea as my permanent original characters. I have has two previous OCs as Stella and Mac's son and daughter but I guess, Dylan's the cutest and I want to keep him._

_Mandi – more Dylan on this. So … he's the fluff that binds them together, do you agree?_

_Paly -- hugs Aww… I hope you're feeling better. _

_mj – ayan na ha. No more waiting! Tell me what you think. May pics of the SCUBA trip sa multiply ko o kaya sa LJ. _

_Mo – lol, does the next chapter include Mac's 'magic fingers'? Hmm… hahahahah…_

_Kday89 – I don't have any idea as well. I have 2-year-old and 3-year-old nieces but no nephews hahahah…_

_Reine – you can stop running around now, mi amiga. _


	20. Ventricular Fibrillation

_**A/N: Drum roll, please! And tissues at the ready. **_

_**I'm going back to the grassroots of this story: angst. Of course, when there's Dylan – there's cuteness. So expect that from this chapter too. Once again, thanks so much for reviewing all the time and for the new readers, thanks for clicking and staying with 20 chapters worth of ideas. I promise, just a few more – I hope you stay stuck for the ride.**_

_**It makes my day to see all your reviews and it makes me so happy to see that I have new readers and reviewers. It makes me want to make this story better for everybody to enjoy. Now… I know this particular part – y'all are so waiting for.**_

**_Without further ado, with the tissues in reach… I give you _the moment.**

**CSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINY**

_And I know that you still care for me_

I saw Stella head towards the stairs after the conference. Some of the attendees had more questions or just wanted a chat so I stayed for a while and talked to them. It was fun to butt heads again with her. There was a point in the conversation where I thought she was going to blow up to my face but we laughed it off in the end. And that entertained the audience.

Renee Harrington invited me back to her office for a glass of iced tea. She couldn't stop thanking me for the very successful career fair. She was starting to bore me when she babbled endlessly about her favorite moments of the event so right there and then, I decided to excuse myself.

"Of course, I know you're tired," she said, standing up and shaking my hand. "I'll arrange for a cab to pick you up and drive you to your hotel."

I didn't wait for her to open the door for me; I just want to get out for fresh air already. I need to clear my head and concentrate on my week-off from work. But as I swung the door open, I saw Stella standing there like a little girl with an anxious smile on her lips. "Stella," I said.

In a heartbeat, she burst out, "Doyouwanttohavedinnerwithus, Mac?"

"What?" I chuckled. I had to process what she just said but all I understood there was my name.

"I said, do you want to have dinner with us, Mac?" she repeated more slowly. Now I had to recheck what I heard. Didn't she just say _us_ instead of _me_? My heart began to race when I realized that she did in fact say that. I stared at her for the longest time, trying to read her eyes that won't meet mine. I felt sweat dripping down my back at the thought of what may come if I say yes. The world seemed to stop around – her, waiting for my answer – and me, thinking of what lies ahead. I guess I was taking too long to think because Stella said, "Well, if you have other plans, it's okay…" then turned to walk away.

That snapped me out of it. No, she's not walking away now… _not ever_. I reached out and placed my hand on her shoulder. "I would love to, Stell," I softly said. I know that she liked being called by her old nickname – and she wouldn't want just anybody to call her that. "When and where?" I asked as I enjoyed staring at the smile that decorated her face.

"7pm. At the McDonald's branch near the public library." Her smile was still hopeful.

"Sure. I'll see _you_ there," I answered. We shook hands, as if in agreement before I walked away. Yes, dinner sounded nice. I got out of the building to the waiting cab. The parking lot was full of students: books in one arm, a tall tumbler of coffee hanging off the other, some who were bundled up because of the cold and some at their professor's feet, begging for a make-up exam over the Christmas break. I slid in the backseat of the cab just as I spotted Stella walk over to a dark blue car and drive away.

Back in my hotel room, I couldn't stop pacing. I couldn't sit down without bouncing. I wasn't sure if I was happy or nervous or petrified. Heck, maybe all of those. It was a little over six o'clock, so I decided to take a shower and change. The place she was talking about was about three blocks from here, walking distance. I have never been this nervous before. Not when Rose asked me out for drinks, not when I asked Peyton to be my girlfriend… the feeling was close to the one I felt when I asked Claire to be my wife.

This morning when I saw Stella again, touching her after three lonely years without her, I felt alive. It's a cliché when people say that but I guess that's the best description for it. I know she has changed; she's – as she would always say – a _big girl_ now. She's having a life of her own. And most of all… _she's a mother now_. That same warm sensation filled me inside once more. It's the one I always feel when I stroll the aisles of Toys'R'Us, picking out a perfect gift for the little one. _Stella's the mother of my baby_.

All that thinking made me lose track of time. When I glanced at my watch, it was already 10 minutes to 7. I would be late even if I ran all the way over there. If Stella were as tense as I am right now, she'd understand. I locked the door to my hotel room and wished for the best as I waited for the elevator doors to open.

_Back to the open arms _

"Mommy! I'm hungry," Dylan said bouncing on the booster seat. We haven't ordered yet. But I did get a glass of water for the both of us. "Can I have frenchie fries, please?"

"Not yet sweetheart," I said, ruffling his hair. "We have to wait for Mommy's friend first. Just a few more minutes." Oh where are you, Mac Taylor? _7:25pm_.

"Aww, just one?" he pleaded with his hazel eyes. If Dylan keeps this up, we'll be forced to start eating without Mac. "I'm hungry and my tummy is mumbering."

They say toddlers can be the cutest kids in the world – and they can also make you lose your mind… _so true._ "No, baby. Give me just five more…"

_Of a love that's waiting there_

Cue that Michael Learns to Rock song. I was late by 25 minutes. I took two wrong turns and got stuck behind slow-walkers. But at least I got here. _7:25pm_. McDonald's branches are always full. I scanned the place for any sign of Stella – a mess of wild curls, maybe. Or a… _booster seat._

I saw her seated at the farthest booth from the counter. My heart was pounding so much that I could almost hear the lub-dub. The shaking in my hands were getting harder to control that I had to stuff them in my pocket. I was like a man suffering from early Parkinson's and on-set of ventricular fibrillation. Stella was talking to someone who was facing away from me. And _he_ was sitting on a booster seat.

My feet were on autopilot. I was hearing all the laughs of the kids around me, their little feet running around the place. I was biting my tongue, praying that I won't bawl like a baby in a few seconds.

"I'm hungry and my tummy is mumbering," I heard the little _boy_ on the booster seat whine. Something tugged at my heart as I walked closer and ever so slowly towards them.

"No, baby," Stella said, placing her palm against his cheek. "Give me just five more…"

That's when she spotted me. The silence between us was deafening. Stella gave me a sweet smile and stood up, "Finally! I thought you'd stand me up."

"Have I ever done that to you, Stella?" I joked, an attempt to hide my uncertainty. The situation was awkward – I wasn't used to this kind of silence.

Yet there is always someone to break that eventually. "Mommy?" the little boy said, pulling at Stella's left sleeve.

Stella mentioned me to sit. I took the seat opposite hers. "Oh yeah, Mac… uh, this is," she paused to give me a comforting smile. If she was nervous at all, she was doing a great job hiding it. "This is Dylan Christopher," she finished placing a hand on mine and on the boy's chubby arm. "Baby, this is Mommy's… _friend_ I was telling you about. He's Mac Taylor."

All this time I was looking at Stella's eyes. With her introduction, I turned to my right and saw familiar hazel eyes starting intently back at me. Butterflies started to tango in my stomach as I realized that this boy has the same eyes as I have. _Dylan Christopher_ was nibbling his lower lip as he looked at me. He blinked once and then again before a huge smile spread on his little chubby face.

"Hi!" he piped up, holding out his soft little hand to me. "I'm Dylan and that over there is my mommy Stewwa."

There was a lump stuck in my throat and I didn't trust my voice. "I know," was all I could manage. My calloused hand dwarfed his. I thought he was going to pull away but I couldn't help but smile when he turned it into a handshake.

His chuckle was so cute. His cheeks were pink and round. "Mommy, can we eat now?" he said turning back to his mother.

Stella was at the verge of laughing herself. "Sure, baby. You boys stay put while I order okay? What will you have, Mac?" I had no time to think about other things at that moment so I told her that I'll have what she's having.

"Extree cachup?" Dylan said waving his arms at her. She waved back.

Silence was a blanket on my shoulders. Dylan was singing a song, something his mother would do. A teddy bear was on his right side and a red backpack was on the floor to his left. I suspect it's full of the usual kid arsenal: crayons, coloring books, toy cars, a bottle of water and the occasional change of clothes. His eyes met mine once more and he flashed me one of his cute smiles.

"So uh… Dylan," I finally said, getting his attention, "how uh… how old are you?"

"Am three," he said holding up his index, middle and ring fingers. "And I'm gointa daycare at Mommy's school." I could feel that he was proud of it and he was sincere that he was. "You Mommy's friend for a long time?" he asked.

"Yes, yes… a long time," I replied. I couldn't stop staring at his big hazel eyes. It was like staring at my own eyes in the mirror. Another batch of tears threatened to topple my reserve. "We knew each other from work in New York."

Dylan paused. He was looking up at me, biting his lower lip again. "New York?" he echoed. He didn't wait for me to say anything, "Daddy place?"

The tone of his voice broke my heart. It sounded like he was about to cry. _Does he know? Has Stella told him who I am?_ "What did Mommy tell you?" I had to know before I say something that I could regret.

"Mommy said that my daddy is workin' in New York," he paused then sniffed before he continued, "I haven't seen him since forever."

Guilt washed over me for some reason. I saw the sadness in his eyes – the longing that I know like the back of my hand. He longed for a father as I longed for a child. _I longed for him as he longed for me._ I should've been there for him. I glanced at the counter and saw Stella. I couldn't blame her for what is happening. She was scared. She ran away because she thought she was alone. I just wished I could've told her that I was scared too and – this might sound like something a three-year-old would say but… it was okay for us to be scared as long as _we were scared together_.

"That must've made you feel sad," I said after a moment. His left hand was on the table. I took it in mine and he gripped one of my fingers. I hope he felt that I was there for him _now_; that I want to comfort him.

"Sometimes," he said in that same tone of voice. With his free hand, Dylan brought out his bear and placed it on the table. "But s'okay. This is Mr. Cheeks," he said pushing the bear in front on me, still holding on to my hand. I started drawing circles on the back of his hand with my thumb. "He's my best friend. I have another best friend in the day care cenner but Mr. Cheeks is my bestest friend ever."

He let go of my hand and hugged his bear – _Mr. Cheeks_. I saw why it was named as such. Red fluffy cheeks were on the bear. Brown buttons served as eyes and its nose was sewn like an upside down triangle. I could tell that he really loves that bear… no surprise there. What surprised me was that he took my hand again; he enclosed my thumb with his left hand.

"See… he has a tie," he said pointing to the blue striped tie the bear was wearing. "I have the very same one. Mommy bought it for me on my 2nd berfday and she said my Daddy likes em too."

Yes, _I do_.

**CSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINY**

_Mandi – hahaha… yeah, me too. I'd skip all my classes just to attend his talk._

_csi-ds9 – oh yes, it was fun SCUBA diving._

_Lil Kass – thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying it so far._

_Mj – fluffy smex scene? Er… tignan natin hahahah_

_Lynette – thank you and welcome to the reading list lol…_

_Murgy31 – how many chapters left? You can count it with fingers of both hands, I think. We're nearing the end. :)_

_Reine – _Maconals_. Lol, I won't head the end of it, would I hahahah_


	21. Deja Vu

_**A/N: I can't thank you guys enough for the overwhelming response every chapter gets. It's getting harder and harder to keep up with all the expectations lol. But I promise, it's all smiles from here. Some tears here and there but it's gonna be good.**_

_**I won't babble any further. So I bring you 'the dinner scene'. Enjoy!**_

_**PS: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO GARY SINISE! (I won't be around for the rest of the week :( … )**_

**CSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINY**

I wanted them to have some time alone. This place is nowhere near private but at least I picked a quiet spot where Mac can get to know Dylan. The line wasn't that long so I reached the counter right away. 'Bonnie' was the one who'd be taking my order – a sweet girl of nineteen, blue eyes and short blond hair. And she does in fact know me.

"Oh Miss B," she said, "what are we having tonight?"

"Chicken nuggets with fries and two cheeseburgers both with fries and three iced tea, large," I said a bit distracted. I heard her say that she'll be getting them then I remembered, "Oh for the dip…"

"Extra catsup, I know, Miss B," she winked at me. Just goes to show how many times I've been eating at fast foods lately.

So I waited. But my mind drifted back to my – uh, the… _boys_. Dylan's not a shy boy so he probably has been talking to Mac already; that is if Mac wasn't a crying mess yet. No, Detective Mac Taylor is not like that. He'd be composed and proper – but who could resist my little boy's smiles? Just thinking about them made me giggle.

The whiff of chicken snapped me back to reality. Bonnie was smiling at me with a glint in her eyes. "He looks like a nice man, Miss B," she said, her line of sight to Dylan and Mac. "Tell him that he'll be good to my sweetheart Dylan, okay?" We laughed. I hired Bonnie a couple of times to baby sit Dylan on weekend mornings.

"I will," I almost whispered, pulling out a few bills.

The look on her face was so funny; she looked like a tomato with teeth and braces breaking out a grin. "So…" one of those elongated syllables, "thaaat's hiiim?" We must've looked like neighbors sharing gossip over manicured hedges. I nodded shyly. "Great catch! Do they have more of him back in New York?" At that, we burst out laughing that we must've attracted the whole place. There wasn't anyone behind me so it was okay to chat a little bit.

"You pick, a blond blue-eyed with glasses or a tall blue-eyed brunette?" I replied after I recovered from the giggles. "_Both_ with badges _and_ New York accents," I continued giving her the eyebrow.

She was about to answer when she spotted the manager enter the front of the store doing his rounds. "Hold that thought, Miss B and I'll take my pick the next time you and sweetheart come in," she said giving me my change. I took the food and walked back to our table.

Those were some of the times I wish I had a camera with me. Dylan was talking animatedly at Mac, his right hand flying left to right, Mr. Cheeks flush to his chest and his left hand… oh, his left hand holding on to Mac's thumb. Mac was laughing at what my baby boy was telling him – maybe his story of how he found a bug under his bed and spooked me out with it on the morning of my birthday.

"And Mommy almost fell off the bed when she saw the little legs on the buggie," I heard him say. Oh yeah, I was right. "But I wasn't ascared." He spotted me with his French fries. "Mommy! I was tewwing Mac 'bout the buggie. It's my pressie for you on your berfday."

"I know, baby. I heard," I said as I slid into my seat and distributed the food. Dylan dove into the chicken nuggets right away. He opened the sauce packet on his own and poured it on top of the food. Then he put his hands to a prayer position and closed his eyes. I looked at Mac as he was looking at him and there I saw _love_. Dylan finished with his little prayer and took a bite off one nugget.

I noticed that neither Mac nor myself was moving. I risked a glance at him and I saw him still gazing at Dylan. He picked up a napkin and wiped the corner of Dylan's lip with it. "Thank you," he managed to say with a fry in his mouth. "You're not eating?"

"Uh, yeah… I am now," Mac replied. As far as I can remember, we took our burgers the same way: catsup under the top bun and under the patty. That took two catsup packets. We paused after the first bite when we heard Dylan laughing.

"You do the same things!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands. I wasn't aware that he was watching us. I was too busy looking at what Mac was doing. I blushed and went on with my eating.

After a while of silence, I felt Dylan tapping my elbow. When I looked over to him, I saw that he's finished his pack of fries and he wanted more… _he wanted mine_. He smiled at me sweetly as if begging for it. "Okay, baby," I said. But when I was about to dump the fries to his nugget plate, Mac did the same.

"You can take mine, Dylan," he said, laying the pieces on his plate and squeezing more catsup on them. "And here's my extra catsup too." Dylan took a sip of his iced tea and let out a slight burp. "Oops, excuse me," Mac laughed, again wiping the chicken nugget sauce off the little boy's lip. I had to mask a sob. The picture was so perfect that I didn't want it to end.

After dinner, Dylan was a little sleepy but still excited enough to keep on talking. I parked my car at the McDonald's parking lot; the night was still young so we decided to take a little walk. Yes, _the three of us._ He kept on telling Mac about daycare, Margot, Dora, Blue and Barney as we walked in the forgiving Saturday night with him in my arms.

As the night went on, he got sleepier and heavier. I was having a harder time keeping him in my arms without him slipping after a few minutes. Mac might've noticed it because he said, "Here, I'll uh… I'll carry him for you." Dylan's eyes were at the verge of closing already when Mac held him in his arms. He also offered to carry his backpack for me.

It was like he was doing it for all his life. Dylan rested his head on Mac's shoulders and dozed off. "And Boots said…" he sighed before his eyes closed. I put his Superman jacket over his shoulders as we found an empty bench to sit on.

Mac kissed Dylan's forehead a couple of times whilst we were sitting there in peace. I didn't know what to say; I don't want to ruin the moment for him with my talking. Mac was staring straight ahead, weaving his right hand into Dylan's hair. It looked to me that he needed a hug himself – something that I gave him wholeheartedly. "Mac…" I sighed.

"Stella," he sighed back against my hair. We stayed that way for what felt like forever; I wanted it to be forever. Until he said, "You guys should be getting home. Dylan might get sick. And you need your rest, too." We stood up and he followed me to my car.

When he tried to place the sleeping little boy in the backseat, he wasn't budging. Apparently, Dylan became very comfortable on Mac's shoulder. He would whimper when he felt he was slipping off. He took a handful of Mac's shirt in his small hands. We had to laugh and wonder, "Is he really sleeping?" His even breathing when we stopped extracting him proved that he was.

Then a make or break idea hit me. Mac was sitting in the backseat of my car, peppering Dylan's forehead with kisses and humming a lullaby. After this night, I can't imagine them apart anymore. "Mac, do you want to come home with us?" I asked him, placing my palm against his cheek. "We can swing by your hotel, get some stuff and…" He was looking at me as if I was speaking in a language he doesn't understand. To convince him, I told him the truth, "Dylan would be so happy to spend the day with you tomorrow."

With a smile, he agreed. We stopped at his hotel; by that time, Dylan was lying down on the backseat while Mac gathered some of his things. He came out a few minutes later and we continued on to my place. It felt so natural like this… going home with your son and _his father_. It made me feel warm inside.

I let him tuck his son in for the night. I watched them from the door of Dylan's room. Mac was cherishing every moment with him so I left him alone for a while. I went down to the living room to pick up some of the toys Dylan left lying around. There wasn't much really; I just needed something to distract me. A whirlwind of emotions was rushing in my system. One can never be too happy, they say.

I went over to the bookshelf. One level was just for pictures. I was rearranging them when I felt a pair of arms wrap around me. "Making space for me?" Mac whispered from behind. Maybe I was.

I faced him and hugged back. I missed the warmth – _his warmth_. California Decembers can be as chilly as New York's sometimes. But ever since I left, every night was cold… no one's hug was enough to warm me up from the cold that I was feeling inside. Only Mac could do that – only Mac was doing that. "Mac, come for Christmas, will you?" I sobbed. Dylan has never spent a Christmas with a father yet.

He stroked my hair lovingly. "I'll try," he said. "Can't promise anything right now."

I know that. And I also trust him when he said that he'd try. But… "There's one thing you can do for me right now." He must've been thinking of the same thing because the next moment, his lips were on mine and soon, we found ourselves in déjà vu.

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_Reine – got my email:) Yeah, I like Dylan too of all the CSI babies I've cooked up. And I can hear him non-stop in my head sometimes hahaha…_

_Murgy31 – a couple more to go. And there's Dylan in all of them. Is that good?_

_Mandi – me hearts Dylan too_

_Lil Kass – aww… hugs well, I'm glad you liked it_

_Mo – well, here we go. Dylan picture, please? Lol…_

_csi-ds9 – oh thank you for that. Yeah, there are a lot of unexpected babies in fanfiction but I'm glad this one is somehow standing out_

_mj0621 – hay alam mo, fluff … is next! ;)_

_Catherine – hahah, thanks for clearing that up. What kind of Sinise fan am I? Hahahaha…_


	22. Selfish Bitch

**_A/N: Hey! I said I won't be online but here estoy aqui! Happy 52nd birthday, Gary Sinise. You have no idea how much I love you hahaha._**

_**Lol, this is the fastest update so far. Two days in between. Like I said before, I will be going back to angst. And here we go. Fluff-fest for the past few chapters. Angst-city now.**_

_**Btw, please take T-rating on this chapter seriously. Enjoy!**_

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I will not forget yesterday for as long as I live. I saw Stella again… and I finally met my son. We haven't really talked much yet I know this following week, we will _eventually._ I have a lot to ask Stella. Why did she leave? Has Dylan asked about me? So… _what's next?_

Three years were a long time to be apart from someone. And yet, here we are tangled up in the sheets, unclothed and sated as if nothing happened. It's not 'nothing' for me. When left, she took my life with her. In fact, I should be enraged at her. Instead, I loved her long and well last night and now she's in my arms, sleeping like an angel. I wonder what she was thinking whilst we were in that conference room, leading the symposium, walking, sitting at that bench, eating dinner, driving to her house.

I wish we could've talked about it right away. After all, she made her decisions outright; I should've asked her outright as well. It came to a point that my loneliness for her and our baby made me question if she really did love me. If she did, she would've called me when Dylan was born – sent me pictures at least. Or she wouldn't have left at all. I loved, _love_ her. And I asked myself those same questions. My answer… I cannot do that to her – _can't leave her_.

She told me last night to be gentle; that she has been with no one else since she came here. Her body – was tense when I first touched her – changed with childbearing, for the better. She was very sensitive everywhere and her soft moans were like a drug to me. When she relaxed and finally accepted me, I realized she was tight. I had to pause when I finally filled her; I knew I was hurting her a bit. When she sighed in pleasure, I joined her in bliss. We had to keep it down – Dylan was sleeping in the next room. We reached our peaks together. After the deed, she was crying a bit and I must say, it felt good. And it was like the first time all over again.

I was moved – I wish I could say the same for myself. But wait a minute, why am I feeling guilty about what I did with Peyton when she was away? It's not like we were in a formal relationship. If we were, she severed it the moment she exited the house we were sharing. Anger rose in me and I noticed that I was gripping the sheets in my hands. Stella was smiling in her sleep. So rested, so beautiful. How can someone so angelic inflict so much pain?

Maybe I am mad. I missed out on the birth of my son, on his first three years. I would've married her had she stayed until that next month. We would've been a family. I had so many good things planned for us. I wanted to tell her but she didn't give me a chance. The urge to shake her awake grew stronger and stronger but I held back. A tear escaped from my eye. I let it fall – anger and violence will not bring back the lost time. I just need my answers, that's all. Stella snuggled closer to me and she started to stir. I feigned sleep this time to avoid her seeing that I was crying.

She was touching my face gently, placing a kiss on the edge of my lips. I could feel her staring at me, tracing my eyebrows, my nose. It was that way, soundless, for a while until she sobbed, "I'm so sorry, Mac. You don't deserve this. I don't deserve you. You've been so good to me and this is how I repay you. I hope you can forgive me. But I would understand it if you couldn't." I felt her body slip away, her weight off the bed, a door closing. Bathroom.

I opened my eyes again. The bed was big without her in it. So many nights I've sat on my own bed, thinking of the same thing. What difference would it have made if I wake up beside her every morning, with our baby in the middle because he crawled into the bed in the middle of the night. My heart broke with all the what ifs in my head; the things I cannot get back.

Stella hasn't come out of the bathroom yet. It has been awfully silent in there. I broke out in cold sweat. I managed to fish out my boxers from under the bed and made my way to the bathroom door. It was unlocked so I let myself in. "Stell?"

There were soft sobs coming from inside. I switched on the dim light by the mirrors and found her in her terrycloth robe, sitting in the empty bathtub, hands on her lap with tears running down her cheeks. I had to look away for a moment as an image of her tied up and bloody flashed in my head. When I looked back, she hadn't moved an inch so I walked to her. I kneeled down to her level and took her hand.

"How can you look at me that way, Mac?" she asked in a broken voice. "How can you look at me as if you love me?"

I was taken aback by her question and the lack of emotion of her voice. "Well… it's because I do, Stella," I replied. _Do I really?_

She sobbed again. "How, Mac? After what I did… how can you say that you still love me? What I did to you was worse that what Frankie did to me. And I killed him for it." I could see where this is going. "How can you sit there, stroking my hand with love in your eyes? You should be disgusted of how cowardly I was… _am._"

I was speechless for a moment. She was shaking in the tub. "Stella, you're my best friend and yes, I love you. You're the mother of my son."

"I'm a selfish bitch, that's what I am," she screamed. The sound bounced off the tiles in the bathroom and it made it louder and hit harder than it already has; I had to cringe. She then cried freely, head in her hands. "You and Dylan deserve someone better… a better person. _Not someone like me_. I starved him with the love of a father – something I know all too well. And I kept him from you – all these years… when you could've been so happy with him running around the lab." She stopped for a moment and faced me. "How can you forgive me, Mac? Or _have_ you forgiven me at all?"

Her hands were shaking in mine. Her eyes were asking me over and over, _have you forgiven me at all?_ Have I? Have I even thought about it? When it came to Stella, it was hard for me to lie. So even if I knew it would hurt her, I said, "I don't know, Stell. To be honest… I don't know." I have to think about it.

The shaking had stopped and she was gaining control of her self again. "Fair enough," she whispered. She tried but her 17 muscles to smile refused to cooperate with her. The tension was so thick in that room that I couldn't move. Then she stood up, "I have to prepare breakfast. Dylan could wake up any minute." I helped her out of the tub and followed her down to the kitchen. I donned my shirt when I saw it hanging off the railing.

I looked around her house for the first time. Her kitchen looked well-used, the pantry stocked and the fridge as well. Artwork hung on the walls alongside numerous pictures of her students, friends and of course, Dylan. I had to smile when I saw old pictures of us back in New York – and of the whole team, one with Aiden and one with Lindsey. And it was just like what I had imagined… a corner of the living room was littered with blocks, tipped over toy trucks and cars, plastic balls and floor puzzles. On the other corner, a kid's desk and a pile of scratch paper and coloring books. A twine box was under the desk labeled 'CRAYONS' in a child's uneven writing, almost looked like an adult was a guide; most likely, Dylan's.

Stella was preparing pancakes and fruit juice. There was obvious weight on her shoulders and I know things aren't 100 okay between us. I didn't like it. I walked over to her and touched her shoulder. She froze and I thought she was going to shrug me away but she didn't. I then took the hand that was holding the spatula and said, "Let me help you with this. You can wake Dylan up." She nodded and went up the stairs to his room.

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_Mandi – Mac stayed alrighty._

_Paly -- hugs yeah, Dylan needs Daddy._

_jcmac22 – it's okay. Just as long as you enjoy this, it's fine. :)_

_Reine – how about this? This was more than a kiss lol…_

_Mj – hahha.. pramis ko may smex diba? Hahahah…_

_Csi-ds9 – yeah, I like seeing daddies with their sons. The image of Mac with a little boy is just priceless._


	23. It Was Like You Died, Too

_**A/N: Good day. I hope you're having a good one so far. Here we are again for a new edition of "Since That Cold November Day". So far we have seen Mac and Stella roll in the hay, get separated, become parents, meet again and roll in the hay once more. So what's next? What does the author have in her bag?**_

_**Read on and find out. Thank you.**_

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Does Mac hate me? Will he leave and not come back? He probably won't… _for Dylan._ Not me. What was I thinking… thinking that he's forgiven me for what I've done? How can I hope for forgiveness without an explanation? As much as I would like to explain, I doubt it'll make much difference. What's done is done and as they say, regrets are always in the end.

I silently entered my son's room. He was on his big boy bed, on his back and spread-eagled as usual. He had drool on his pillow and Mr. Cheeks looked like it got kicked off the bed onto the floor. "Baby, wake up," I said and softly shaking him awake. It doesn't take much to wake him up but he was tired yesterday. "Dylan… breakfast is downstairs. Baby…"

He started to stir. His left hand felt around for something – it's the side where he usually kept Mr. Cheeks. I picked it up and placed the bear in his hands. "Mommy?" he said with a sleepy scratch in his voice. His hazel eyes opened up and he stretched his legs.

"Baby!" I smiled. Dylan sat up slowly and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Hey, nice sleep?" He yawned and nodded. "Dreamt of something?"

His eyes lit up and he jumped into my arms. "Yeah," he said and started an animated statement of his dream that included green mittens, brown boots, snow and… "Mac!" He slid down to the floor and ran over to him. Mac scooped him up in his arms and kissed him.

"Good morning, buddy," he said, ruffling his hair.

"Whatcha doing here? You spent the night?" Dylan asked which Mac confirmed. "D'ya kiss me g'night?" Mac nodded again. "Oh I didn't r'member."

He sat him on the booster seat and replied, "It's alright. You were out like a light." I went over to the juicer and made myself fresh orange juice. I poured another glass for Dylan and made coffee for Mac. I heard Dylan babbling away at Mac about his dream. I made my way back to the table and there was a pile of pancakes with syrup and a pat of butter… just how I like them.

It was better if I kept silent while they talked. Mac was cutting up Dylan's pancakes and feeding it to him. From time to time, Dylan would do it himself – looking at Mac and mimicking what he was doing. They looked so natural together… father and son, as if Dylan knew all along. From the first time they met, he had been so comfortable with Mac.

"Mommy?" Dylan said to me, bringing me back to reality. "You okay?" I was halfway through my meal and on my 2nd glass of juice. I think it was because I was silent. All I could do was smile and nod.

"Stell," I head Mac say and a large hand on mine. His eyes were concerned. I must've been pale… I felt empty.

But I can't let them see that. That's not the Stella/Mommy they know. "I'm fine, guys. I'm just… burned out. This week has been very _stressful_." Mac didn't let go of my hand. "Seriously, Mac. I'm okay."

"So Mac," Dylan said cheerfully, "you wanta color with me later? I have a new coloring book and I wanta share."

"Dylan, uh… Mac might have other things planned for the week," I started to say when Mac cut me off rather forcefully.

"Sure, buddy. I'd stay and color with you," he said, all the while glaring at me. "I'd stay as long as_ you_ want."

I shrank at his gaze and I felt like I would cry. Dylan's eyes lit up when he said that and clapped. He turned and faced me as said, "Mommy?" as if asking permission.

If Dylan wants to spend time with his father, "Okay," I whispered loud enough for them to hear. Dylan clapped again and Mac's eyes softened. He mouthed a 'thank you' and kissed my knuckles.

_I know it's been some time  
But there's something on my mind_

I invited him to stay with us for the rest of the week. More like, Dylan _begged_ him to stay. "At least you don't have to pay the hotel fees," I managed to joke. "Plus… you get to stay with Dylan." I said the second part in a whisper.

"_And you_," I whispered back when he pulled me in his arms. That night, we made love again (twice, no less) and I woke up against his hard chest, watching his calm breathing, tracing the scar that marred the smooth skin there. I know this old batter scar means nothing versus all the wounds I've given him.

He hasn't given me a straight answer (if he has forgiven me or not) yet but he's made it perfectly clear that he does, "_Love you_. Regardless," he panted in the aftermath of passion. He have been talking more; I'd get home after work and I'll find them finger painting or watching SpongeBob the Movie for the nth time and then Dylan would tell me about their day and after he's all tired and talked out, Mac and I would talk in the bedroom about _everything_. Only this time, _everything_ was about _Dylan_.

I confessed to him why I left and what happened from that fateful day until we were reunited. I told him that I felt that there was distance between us when we started living together… as if we knew that we weren't ready for that yet the circumstance forced us to be. I cried every time I would tell him how scared I was when I realized my mistake of leaving a little too late. And he would just hug me tight in understanding.

On his part, he told me about how it affected him; he slipped into that same cocoon he made back when Claire died. "It was like you died, too, Stella," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. He reluctantly told me about Peyton, how it rekindled and how it ultimately ended. "She was there for me but she wasn't you." And he was most excited when he told me about the gifts he bought every year for our son. "The next time I'm here, I'll bring them over."

We also talked about telling Dylan the truth. _When? How?_ He had until the end of the week then he had to go back to New York. These kinds of things, you cannot be ready for. But then, it was Dylan who actually prepared us for it.

One Thursday afternoon, it was my off-day. Mac and I were sitting on the couch talking about Danny, Flack and the rest. Dylan was on the floor 'reading' a picture book about fishes. All of the sudden, he stood up and clambered up onto Mac's lap. We both thought it was cute of him until he asked out of the blue, "Mac… can you be my daddy?" His jaw fell open and I dropped the glass that I was holding. Good thing it was empty as it fell with a slight thud on the carpet. Dylan's eyes were shining with anticipation and he was searching our eyes for something. "Please?" He placed his head against Mac's chest and mumbled, "I gots no daddy."

I started crying. Something in his tone made me very sad… and _very guilty_. _I_ took that away from him. His shoulders began to shake – my Dylan was crying. Mac took my hand in his as if warning me, "Don't dare escape now, Stella. We're going through this _now_. Together." Yes, I'm staying.

"Dylan," Mac said, holding his little face up and wiping away the tears, "why do you want me to be your daddy?" I was evident that Mac was struggling as much as I was.

He sniffed and tried to speak, "Because… because you… make my mommy happy. And you make me happy," we managed to hear amidst his sobs. "We color together and watch movies together…" he went on to say things that I couldn't understand because he was sniffling. "And… and – I _want_ you to be _my Daddy!_" He jumped off Mac's lap and ran up to his room crying loudly.

At that point, I couldn't stop my tears either. It was so intense that I fell to my knees when I tried to stand up and follow him. Mac caught me and I just clung on like it's my lifeline. "So sorry," I murmured, my sight blurred my tears.

Mac held me, his own tears falling into my hair. I guess this it's time to tell Dylan the truth. "Shall we?" he said, his voice shaky and weak. I took a photo album from under my desk and we went over to Dylan's room to finally explain _everything_.

We found him sitting on his bed, his blanket around his shoulders and he was hugging Mr. Cheeks. He was still sniffling and sobbing. It broke my heart to see him bolt off like that. Mac and I sat beside him, with me on his left. The thick photo album was on my lap. Dylan sank into Mac's arms as soon as he felt his weight on the bed. It hurt me at first; I thought he was turning me away. But I felt a small hand slip into mine and a kiss to my forehead – my baby boy and Mac still do want me.

"Dylan, I… remember what I told you about Ms. Penn and her baby girl Melissa?" I asked him. Jean Penn was one of my co-workers who took a break because she had a baby. Dylan asked where little Melissa come from and where did the bulge on Ms. Penn's tummy go.

"The bumpy on her tummy?" he said, wiping his nose with the corner of his blanket. Mac understood right away where I was going with this.

"Yes, yes. You see," I lifted the front flap of the photo album and showed it to him, "Mommy had a bumpy too." I pointed to one such picture where I was in a tight shirt and pajamas measuring how big I have become. "You were in that bumpy."

He watched with wide eyes. "I fit in there?" he asked, scratching his hair.

Mac decided to pitch in, "Well, when you were little – you did. You're a big boy now." He looked at me for support; this was also the first time he'll see these photos. "When you were born, you were…"

"Eight pounds and four ounces," I finished for him. He mouthed back, "big boy". I smiled and continued because Dylan was waiting, "You were in Mommy for nine months before you became Dylan." I know it sounded stupid but I guess for a three-year-old, this would do. I turned to the pages where I really wanted him to see… those taken back in New York.

"Mac!" he said, pointing to my picture with him in the album. It was taken with my phone's camera a week before I left the city. "An' Mommy, too."

"That's right," I said. I particularly liked that picture. Danny took it for us; we were taking a break in Central Park when suddenly, Danny walked past us carrying his kit, with Flack on his heels; a crime scene on the other side of the park. We were sitting on a bench; Mac's arms were around me and we were smiling. Flack joked that we looked "magazine ad happy" and Danny offered to take a picture just for the heck of it. I handed him my phone and he captured that moment forever.

By the way Mac was smiling told me he remembered too. "Look there, Mommy has a bumpy in this picture," he pointed out. It wasn't as obvious as the other pictures but yes, it was there and Dylan saw it. "This was taken in New York."

Dylan froze when he heard those words. He looked at me and I said, "Daddy place." Ever since he started asking questions, New York became synonymous to what he calls 'daddy place'. That's where his daddy was.

He remained silent, his eyes going from the picture, to me then to Mac and back again. The picture, to me and then to Mac. I could see the gears in his head working overtime; his three-year-old brain trying to grapple the information and snap everything in place. I wasn't expecting that he will right away. I just want him to take his time and it's okay if he doesn't get it yet. The picture, to me, and then to Mac. The picture, to me, and then to Mac.

Yet after a few awkward minutes… he ultimately did. "Mommy?" he said, asking whether or not it's for sure. I smiled and gave him a kiss on one chubby cheek. He then turned his head and looked at Mac straight in the eyes. He tried to stand up on his bed but he fell to his butt on a sitting position, never leaving Mac's eyes. "D…Da…" I felt he was reluctant but I knew he could do it, "Daddy?"

Mac's walls crumbled down. He scooped Dylan into his arms and his own tears spilled forth. To Dylan, it was all the proof he needed to believe that it's true. "Daddy!" he said again, this time with more liveliness.

"I'm here, son. _I'm here_," he said. Dylan's arms were around him and to me – it was just the sweetest thing ever. He kissed him on the cheek and Dylan did the same. I couldn't have been happier. "I love you."

"Love you, too," Dylan sobbed, in his hands were fistfuls of Mac's shirt. He kept repeating it, "Love you, love you, Daddy." I felt small and left out. But that's fine by me. That was their moment – _father and son_ – something I have robbed them long enough. They deserve time on their own so I silently stood up and went over to the kitchen.

There, I cried. I was so happy and at the same time very nervous. After this, what'll happen? Will Dylan be mad at me and choose to go with Mac instead? That would be the death of me. I haven't been apart from my baby ever since he was born and I can't imagine life without him anymore. But _what if_ that happens? I watched as individual teardrops dot the countertop like morning drizzle. Will I ever get through this rain?

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_Comments?_

_Mandi – oh, that's nice. Mac and Stella yelling. Usually, it's only one of them who's agitated._

_Reine – I just have to test the T-rating again. Lol…_

_Moriel – at least here, they don't have them gutter police. It's a safe haven. Lol…_

_pineylife – I _love_ that name. I tend to use it a lot on some creative writing projects I do at school._

_csi-ds9 – yes, but where I was getting at was Stella hasn't had sex ever since she left NY. :)_

_mj – oh well. Teka, hindi pa bakasyon si ako lol._


	24. Textbook Housewife

_**A/N: Hello again! Wow, updates are coming on pretty fast these days. Hmm… is it because we're nearing the end? drum roll Idk. I like to keep readers in suspense lol. Anyway, this chapter doesn't really have much happening but … there's Dylan. Hey, that has to account for something, right?**_

_**I would just like to thank all of you for loving Dylan and making him part of the SMACked family. If only he could all hug you back.**_

_**Enjoy!**_

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Dylan said he wanted me to be his daddy because I make him and Stella happy. Such a simple though yet so heartfelt. I think somewhere in him, he knew (or _felt_) the truth. Blood is thicker than water, they say. I knew Stella wasn't ready for that and that she wanted to run away but no, I'm here now and we're in it together.

And now, Dylan – _my son – _is in my arms, coming down from his frantic sobbing a few minutes ago. I have calmed down as well. I couldn't help but lose control when he finally realized what we were trying to tell him. I wasn't expecting that a three-year-old would get such life-changing things yet… but he did. After all, whom does he have as parents.

He lifted his head up from my chest and managed a smile. He looked around and said, "Where's Mommy?" I searched the room as well and I didn't realize Stella went out. Maybe in the middle of the crying episode we had, she slipped out to give us some space. Dylan crawled to the edge of the bed and called out to his mother, "Muuuuuh-mmy!" Then he jumped off and went out the door.

I followed him out, downstairs and to the kitchen where I found him hugging Stella's legs and trying to comfort her. I went over to her and I heard her mumble, "I'm sorry," over and over. Dylan was countering him with his, "No, Mommy," but it fell on deaf ears. Her banana curls were all over her face, wet with tears.

I placed my arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. I lifted Dylan up to her lap. Her crying was reduced to a few violent sniffles and a sob here and there. She stroked his hair tenderly. I lifted her chin up to face me and I kissed her softly on the lips. "It's going to be okay, Stella," I told her. "I forgive you," I finally said. I realized that I have forgiven her for a long time now; that letting the past go was easier than I initially thought now that my present and future are turning out better than I have ever hoped before. There was no use in harboring in what has passed because you won't see the good the future holds.

"Love you, Mommy," our son said smiling wide. "Don't cry. S'ok." At that moment, Dylan was giving her strength.

That night, we all slept in the master bedroom – with Dylan between Stella and I. We read him two bedtime stories and sang half a lullaby before he went to sleep. We couldn't get to sleep ourselves; the energy that day was so intense (and Stella and I had no way of burning off that oomph with Dylan in the bed with us) that it kept us awake all night.

That morning, I woke up to the welcoming smell of Irish coffee percolating downstairs. The bed was empty apart from myself, not to mention the sheets looked pristine and smooth. I sat up and stretched then I heard feet shuffling outside the open door of the room.

"Good morning, Daddy!" my little boy said, poking his head through the door. He had already bathed and dressed for the day we had planned. I had a few more days in LA, I'd be leaving this Sunday, and we planned to have a picnic in the park this afternoon. I'd be picking up Stella from work, have Dylan with me all morning. "Breakie downstairs before Mommy leaves for work," he said, scrambling up the bed and onto my lap. His hair smelled like coconut when he hugged me.

"Okay, buddy," I croaked out, picking him up and carried him down to the kitchen. Stella was dressed in her corporate attire, hair loose and she was busy with breakfast. I heart fluttered as I was watching her flip the pancakes and make PB&J. It was reminiscent of a textbook housewife – then husband comes along, with son in his arms, wrapping his free arm around wife's waist and giving her a kiss on the cheek. _And that was exactly what I did._

"Hey, Mac," she cooed. She returned the kiss to the both of us. "Sit down; let's have something different today," she said. She wasn't making pancakes after all. She was making eggs Benedict – a dish consisting of poached eggs and sliced ham on toasted English muffins, covered with hollandaise sauce. She placed a plate in front of mine and said, "Try it."

I took a bite and I must say, it was pretty good. Dylan was chugging his glass of OJ. "Mommy, Chee-wee-ohs," he said. It took me a while to decipher that the first time I heard it. Now, I know it's _Cheerios_. Stella placed a bowl of the said cereal on the table and added a few sliced strawberries along with the milk. He dug in to it right away.

"I could get used to this," I said to myself. We _are_ a family. I took Stella's hand in mine, "Stell, thanks," I said looking deep into her green eyes. "So much."

Her smile was all the reply that I needed.

Sadly, Sunday morning, I had to leave for New York. Stella offered to drive me to the airport. She had me bring little some-things to the guys back home – photos, letters, and such. She also had Dylan draw them a picture. I'm sure they would like everything.

A few minutes before boarding, I had Dylan in my arms. He wasn't crying at all but he did look sad. I was leaving and neither one of us wanted to let go just yet. "Thank you…" he said, chewing his bottom lip, "for the Frenchie fries last week. I didn't get to thank you." Then he buried his face on my shoulder.

"Oh that's okay, big guy," I said, trying to hold back my own tears. He's so cute, so innocent – and I love him. My flight then began to board. "Be good to Mommy for me, okay?" I whispered in his ear. He nodded slowly. "I'll see you again soon. I promise."

Stella walked up behind me, just standing there silently. I could tell she was sad, too. All of us were. I pulled her in my arms and also promised her what I had promised Dylan. I kissed her on the lips; we were out-of-breath when we parted. I told them that I love them very much one more time before I passed through the gate.

In the plane, I looked out the window and saw them looking out the deck. I don't know if Dylan or Stella could see me but still, I waved at them. _And Dylan waved back_. There was a pang in my heart as I saw that they were crying. Then I told myself, "No more. The next time I come here, I'm bringing them with me when I come back to New York."

**CSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINY**

_Julie – lol, yeah – Daddy hugging son is _always_ cute._

_Moriel – aww… I hugged you over at TalkCSI and I just _have_ to hug you here!_

_csi-ds9 – haha, yeah some fics have outrageous things on them :) I try to have that at the minimum since I haven't had a baby ever and I have no idea on how that works haha._

_LucyStar – yes, it was as if Dylan felt it._

_Reine – all is good. Don't worry :)_

_Mj – lol, basta ba wala pang pitchforks eh… paghihintayin ko kayo hahahahha!_


	25. Ms Spears

_**A/N: This is the last chapter before the EPILOGUE. Our journey is coming to a close. :( So how was it for you guys? Me, I enjoyed sharing my vision, my little story with all of you and most of all, I am so happy that a lot of you liked it.**_

_**Well, I'm not saying goodbye as of yet. One more to go.**_

_**Enjoy!**_

**CSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINY**

_Can they find their way home_

"_Oh the weather outside is frightful/but the fire is so delightful…"_ that was the music playing at the lobby of the hotel we checked-in to.

"Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow," Dylan sang happily. An elderly couple passing by smiled at him and the man ruffled his hair. "Merry Christmas, grandpa and grandma," he said to them.

I was kneeling on the plush carpet, to his level, trying to secure his green Christmas mittens on his hands. Two pompoms hung from the ties that secured it. He looked so cute in his brown snow boots and blue parka and green mittens. I, on the other hand, was in my trusty trench coat and leather gloves. Oh yeah, I could still remember and withstand a typical New York winter. But I wasn't sure if Dylan could. After all, this was his first time out of sunny California.

We flew to New York three days before the Christmas congestion. The university managed to get us two tickets (and not to mention a vacation leave for me) to NYC over the Holidays. I haven't told Mac that we're here – that's our surprise. Now, we are on our way to the NYPD Crime Lab.

Dylan has not seen real snow yet – apart from the Winter Wonderland Resort. Last night, we were out in Central Park and it has not snowed yet. Today, however, it has. But he doesn't know that yet.

"Mommy, why the mittens?" he asked. He was clapping his hands with them on, making a slight thump-thump sound. I said nothing but led him through the revolving doors of the hotel. I didn't need to ask him what he's thinking. His hazel eyes were as big as saucers when he saw the streets of New York covered in snow. There was snow falling all around so I led him out from under the awning to feel it first-hand. "Snow!"

He held out his hands and let the snowflakes fall on his mittens. Then he crouched down and collected some of the snow by his feet and made it into a small ball. "Hold out your tongue, baby," I said to him. I remember all those days before, in the orphanage – Andrea and a few others would let loose in the playground, tongues out and trying to catch snowflakes. "Like this…" I showed him. He did it a moment after.

The ball in his hand melted already. He pulled off his right mitten and tried to make a new one. "Cold," he whined when he reached down and pulled his hand away.

"Yes, it is. That's why you have mittens on," I said, slipping them back on. Hey, the cold was getting to me – I guess I should get used to this again. "Come on, Dylan – the cab's waiting."

The drive to the crime lab was nerve-wracking. I couldn't stop wringing my hands all the way there. I know Mac had told them where and how we are but I haven't really kept in touch with them. Mac and I have been talking over the phone a lot; it has compensated for the distance between us.

Dylan was enjoying the ride. He was kneeling on the seat and looking out the window. The cab we got had a radio and it was playing "'Tis the Season" and he would sing along in the 'fa-la-la-la-la' part. The driver would smile when he did. He would then point to the signs that he could read and remember such as Coca-Cola and Dunkin' Donuts.

"Here you go, lady," the driver said, stopping in front of the building where the crime lab is. "Merry Christmas to you and to your cute kid." He drove off and Dylan waved after him.

"Mommy, what's this place?" he asked as he took my hand and we went inside the building and into the elevator. I punched the 35th floor button and waited for the car to go up.

"We're going to meet some of Mommy's friends," I explained as the doors closed. It was just he and I in the car. He held tightly on my pant leg going up; he wasn't that fond of elevators. "And we're going to surprise someone."

"And who would that be?" he asked. I removed his mittens and put them in my pocket. The doors opened and there I was again… the _NYPD Crime Laboratory_. Everything still looked the same way I left it with a few additional vending machines beside the break room and by the washrooms. There were some familiar faces – I wonder if they still know who I am. I took Dylan's hand in mine again and made my way through the lab.

A few people greeted me with a hug and/or smile when they saw me. But there were a few who were busy with their work, hunched over the layout table and case files wide open beside them. I looked for _other_ familiar faces and luckily, I found them _all_ in the break room.

Danny, Don, Lindsey, and Sheldon were obviously taking a break and having a late breakfast in the break room. All of them were watching the news, backs to the glass doors. Danny was, as usual, commenting on something and then Sheldon said something also. Back in LA, I have shown Dylan a lot of pictures of the team and as he was looking at them through the glass, biting his lower lip; I could tell that he's remembering their names.

Very slowly and silently as I could, I cracked open the door enough to hear what they were talking about. "No such thing," Lindsey said, flicking a peanut at Danny. "Where have you heard an incident like that?"

"What proof do you want, Montana?" he said. Well, _that_ hasn't changed. "It's all over the news and not to mention the papers."

"_Tabloids_, Messer," Don said in his smooth voice. He took a sip of coffee and flicked another peanut at the shorter man.

Dylan had to stifle a chuckle. He was watching them from between my knees. "Hey, hey, what do you guys have against peanuts?" Danny said, brushing off the said food item from his jacket. "Anyway, I'm just saying that if Miss Spears wants to do that, let her. We have enough crap in our lives to meddle with hers."

Before any of them could answer to that, I made myself known. "I hear you, Danny. I've always figured you to be the gossiping type."

The looks on their faces were priceless. Danny had to wipe his glasses while Don almost crushed the steaming paper cup in his hand. Sheldon nearly fell off the barstool. Lindsey practically flew over to where I was standing and threw her arms around me.

"Stella!" she cried out. "Oh my gosh, Mac has told us everything about you. How have you been?"

"Well, I've been doing pretty well," I said to the smaller woman. Her smile was enough to replace the sun. "Teaching college students and such. And how about you guys?"

By that time, the men regained consciousness and crowded over to me. From the rumble of "We're a-okay" and tangle of arms, I heard Sheldon say, "And who might this fine young man be?" He was kneeling down to Dylan's level, holding his hand.

My little boy looked up at me and broke into a big shy smile. I heard Lindsey sigh behind me – I must admit, it was so cute. Danny kneeled down as well and took his other hand. "I know you," he said to him. "An' you too," as he turned to Sheldon. "Dammy and Shewdun."

"That's right," Sheldon said, shaking his hand. Danny did the same, ruffling his hair. Dylan chuckled and shook their hands as well.

"He's so cute, Stella," Lindsey said.

He looked over to me again and exclaimed, "Lindey." She waved and he did, too.

Then he cried out as a pair of arms carried him up, "How about me?" Don said, placing him against his hip. "You're Dylan, are you?" he said in his 'cop voice'.

"Yessir!" he said in a mock salute, something Margot taught him. "An' you are Don, are you?"

All of us laughed; Dylan managed to somehow mimic him. "That's right," the homicide detective said putting him down again. "And how about him?" he said, going down to his knees and pointing somewhere outside. Dylan's eyes lit up and he started jumping up and down. I heard Lindsey sigh again.

"Come on, baby. Go to him," I said. Danny opened the door for him and he ran out to meet his father.

_I'll never let you go_

"Detective Taylor," the receptionist said as I passed by her, "these forms need your signature. The sheriff also wanted to know if you will be bringing anybody to the fundraising this weekend."

The day has been pretty dull. I've been doing paperwork for three days straight and there has not been an interesting case for the past week. Ever since my visit to LA, the highlight of my days has been my phone calls from Stella and my boy Dylan. Their pictures have earned a special spot on my desk. I wondered how long it would take for the team to notice it. Turned out, it wasn't that long. Sheldon saw it first, snatching it off my hands when he caught me staring at it whilst we were briefing a case. There was a game of 20 questions until Lindsey came in with Flack in tow. Then another round of 20 questions commenced. Danny, as always, was the last one to find out.

As I was signing the last pages of the document, the receptionist stammered, "Uh… sir. Sir, a kid..."

I glanced up at her and was about to reply when something – _someone _– wrapped around my legs and exclaimed, "Daddy!" It took me a short while to register who that was but when I looked down; I was met with a familiar pair of eyes.

"Dylan!" I exclaimed, hunkering down and scooping him up. From my peripheral vision, I could see the expression on the receptionist's face as if saying, "Detective Taylor has a _son?_" I cuddled him a bit as he kissed me on the cheek. I faced the puzzled woman again and said, "Is that all? If it is, you know how to reach me." She nodded and then I turned my full attention to my son.

"Suprize!" he said, raising his arms.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, chuckling. I bopped him on the nose lightly.

He pouted, lower lip trembling. "You don't like?" he bleated. Oh I didn't mean it to come out that way.

"No, I _love_ the surprise," I countered, tightening my arms around him. "Where's Mommy?" I also want to see Stella, of course. Dylan pointed to the general direction of the break room and when I wheeled around, there she was – smiling and waving at me. The others were around her, looking at us, smiling as well. I know they are happy for me… _for us_.

I entered the break room and Stella jumped into my arms. "Missed you," she mumbled. I said the same to her. Dylan slid down to the floor and went straight to Lindsey and kissed her cheek. When I let go of the woman in my arms, we had to chuckle because the rest of the team's attention was to Dylan. He was sitting on one of the couches, Lindsey on his left and Sheldon on his right, Danny kneeling nearby and Don standing behind him.

Dylan was starting on an apple Don handed him and his eyes were shining as he was talking to them. They were asking him questions, "how old are you", "are you going to school", "what is your favorite thing to do" – and he would answer each one with enthusiasm. We stood there, arms around each other… and probably thinking of the same thing. _Permanence._

I looked at Stella – in her eyes, how happy she was – and then at Dylan and how he was enjoying himself. And I realized, "_This_ is _Happiness_."

Like what Stella did for me in LA, I invited them to stay at my place for the remainder of their 'vacation'. Turned out, they stayed at Parkview. "Of course," Stella laughed on our way home, Dylan was dozing off in the backseat after a nice dinner, "I was super sure that you'll be offering your place so we check-in at Parkview for a day. I hope you don't mind us, Detective Taylor."

Little did she know… _I was ready._ In fact, I was planning to ask her to move in with me as soon as the semester ends. I told her that I want her back, and now that we have a son, we agreed it would be better if we settled together – _raised him together_. Although their arrival wasn't expected, I already had a room prepared for Dylan.

"Oh Mac," Stella gasped when she saw it. It wasn't finished yet but it's livable. There was a big boy bed against the far wall and a play area on the opposite. I was still putting up the wallpaper and some of the furniture, though. Danny suggested that I stick glow-in-the-dark stars to the ceiling. I have put some above the bed. Stella stood there admiring the kid's room.

I felt myself blushing. This was one of my DIY projects – a labor of love, if you may. "It's not finished yet but he can sleep here…" I didn't get to finish that sentence because Stella gave me a soft kiss.

"I love it," she whispered. I want her to feel at home here… to feel that this is where she – _they_ belong. I placed our son gently on the bed and pulled the comforter over his shoulders and kissed him goodnight. We then went into my room – where she will stay – and made love.

"When are you going back to LA?" I asked her after we flew to the moon and back. When she didn't answer right away, I assumed she was already sleeping.

"Second week of February, just before Valentine's Day," she mumbled against my neck. She looked at me and smiled, "Sorry… dozed off. Anyway, I went out and used half of my allotted sick leaves to spend time with you here. Besides…"

She paused as if thinking and then she colored slightly, "Besides, I reckon this will be my last semester at the University." Stella smiled shyly at me, gauging what I might be thinking. "After all, we have agreed that we should live in one place for Dylan. And I don't see you moving out of New York anytime soon."

"You're coming back to New York?" I asked her timidly. Stella nodded and kissed my chest. She also said that she might look for a job teaching here since coming back to work at the crime lab is a long shot considering our circumstances. I hugged her tight and said, "Love you." She mumbled something again – something which started with 'L' – and dozed off.

**CSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINY**

_Mandi – lol, I let Stella come back. That's where she belongs._

_Paly – me too, I want my own Mac. And Dylan!_

_Moriel – yeah, Dylan's a mommy's boy. But he loves his dad and is excited to be with him. Be like him._

_csi-ds9 – epilogue's coming next. I agree, there are some fics – okay, A LOT – that seem to go overboard and unbelievable._

_hey-spitfire – thank you!_

_Mj – funny you mention chainsaws. Hahaha, I'm in the middle of watching gory horror movies haha. O ayan, pinapunta ko na sina Stella sa NY._


	26. Epilogue

_**A/N: This is the end of the road. Twenty-six chapters, 43,706 words sans the author's notes and extras, 85 US Letter size pages, Times New Roman 12pt, single space, 1-inch margin all around. Four months of updating, reading and reviewing. **_

_**What I'm going to miss from this is all your wonderful reviews. I promise that I will try my best to write more SMACked fics but I can't guarantee that they'll be all like "Since That Cold November Day". I hope you've enjoyed those four months that my story ran through and I also hope that you'll give similar support to my other stories to come.**_

_**I don't think I can thank you guys enough – whether you review every time or just once in 25 chapters. Every little thing is appreciated so much, you guys have no idea. Writing this has been an experience. And I am so happy – so very happy – that you all loved little Dylan Christopher. Trust me, this is not the last time you'll hear of him.**_

_**I won't impede your reading any longer. People, this is the very last chapter of "Since that Cold November Day". Thank you.**_

**CSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINY**

**EPILOGUE**

It was Dylan's first Christmas outside of California and also his first one with his father. We spent the day at Central Park, playing in the snow and ice-skating. A day before Christmas Eve, we invited the team to dinner. Dylan was very fond of Don and he would follow the said homicide detective around every time he's with us. He had also taken to Sid.

Like Mac said, he bought gifts for Dylan every Christmas and his birthday. That Christmas, he had a lot of boxes to open and by the end of the morning, it looked like Mac had an improvised carpet made of wrapping paper.

New Year's Day was fun. It was very special to me. We were celebrating in the lab, Dylan on Don's shoulders watching the crowd on the streets and counting down until the New Year. Mac and I were in his office, blinds drawn up and doors wide open to let the music in. A few seconds until the ball lit up, Mac wrapped his arms around me and whispered in my ear, "Will you marry me, Stella?" as we slow danced to another music in our heads.

I stopped and looked up at him. I wasn't expecting this at all. Not to mention a _ring_. He was holding a velvet box in his left hand, reaching for my hand with the other. "I know you love these little boxes," he joked. "But I'm sure you'll love what's inside more." He opened the box and the most exquisite piece of rock was sitting in there.

That's when I started tearing up. I could hear the countdown starting in the background. He might not have gone down to one knee and asked me again but the way the ring felt warm and snug on my finger… there was only one thing to say. "Yes," I choked out just in time. Our lips met as everybody in the city greeted each other 'Happy New Year'.

_A very happy new year indeed._ When Mac popped the question, I said yes (of course). What I didn't think of is getting married _right away_. He wanted us to tie the knot before I went back to LA. At first, I was having second thoughts but in the end, I felt that it was right. We have known each other long enough and well enough to finish each other's sentences. We've been through _everything_ together that we are sure we can champion every thing else that will be thrown our way. Plus, we have Dylan – we love him, he loves us; we love each other.

One Sunday on the 3rd week of January, we invited the team and some friends to our house. Mac had already gotten a judge to preside over our civil wedding. We figured that a church wedding would come later, when we have more time and money for such. I called Andrea and told her the good news. She wanted to be there but I promised that she'll be maid of honor on the church ceremony.

I think Lindsey cried more tears than I did during the whole thing. Dylan was our ring-bearer and he understood what was happening. "Mommy an' Daddy, marry!" he said happily when we told him the good news. He hugged us both and he burst into tears.

Then, it was time for us to go back to LA. Dylan had to go with me. There was no sadness this time around because we were sure as hell that what we have is permanent. The matching rings on our fingers, Mac said it felt weird having a ring on again after so many years, stand for the vow we made. _Forever_. The kisses are sweeter; the hugs were more felt – not to mention the _love_ was richer than before.

I left LA as Stella Bonasera. I went back as Stella Bonasera-Taylor. My students and co-workers were happy for me. Andrea was over the moon about it. Yet, they were a bit sad because I also told them that that was the last semester for me with them.

But that wasn't all. During the mid-semester, I found out that I was pregnant. Usually, it's Dylan who would throw up at breakfast if his tummy didn't agree with the food. "Ooopsie," he giggled when I gargled after throwing up. I smiled at the memory – once again I know when exactly I conceived.

It was a week before I had to leave. Mac and I decided to take a chance. After all, we were already married and we do want another child. He came home early one night and we had a quiet dinner. He played cops and robbers with Dylan for a while and then he went to bed with me.

Even in the heat of things, we managed to keep it down. The bedroom door was locked and I made sure Dylan had a glass of water ready at his bedside in case he wakes up thirsty. Only our erratic breaths, lusty moans and the squeaking of the bedsprings pierced the air. I knew that I was in for a toe-curling, sheet-gripping ride.

"Stell," Mac panted as his thrusts became faster, "Oh…" I held on to his strong shoulders as I felt myself nearing climax. We reached the crest together and fell back on earth, a tangle of heavy limbs and pumping hearts.

We haven't caught our breaths yet when we heard a faint knocking and a muffled, "Mommy? Daddy?" then a sob.

I pushed at Mac's shoulders with little strength and said, "It's Dylan. He needs something." But he wasn't budging. He was still panting and sweat was running off his body. Dylan knocked again. "Get off me, Mac," I chuckled as he finally rolled to his side of the bed.

"I'll get it," he croaked, getting up and putting on his boxers and undershirt. I hated it when he put his clothes back on so soon after making love but I love him just the same because he was caring for our son. I reached for my robe and put it on just in time as Mac opened the door and kneeled down to Dylan's level. "What's the matter, buddy?"

Dylan was standing there in his blue footie pajamas. Yes, I know he's three years old but he likes them. He was chewing his lower lip and he couldn't meet his father's eyes. "I had a ak-see-dent," he said warily. Oh yes, he did. The lower part of his pajamas was darker than the top. He was wiggling his toes – something he did when he thought he did something wrong. "Sowry."

"That's okay, Dylan," Mac said, taking his hand. "I'll change the sheets for you." That was my cue to pitch in.

"Okay, little man," I said leading him to the bathroom. "Had too much milk and forgot to go to the bathroom?" I asked and he nodded slowly. "Let's get you cleaned up and changed."

"Mommy, I don't have diapers," he said as I peeled off his wet pajamas. "I'm not a baby no more." I smiled and kissed him on the nose.

"Sure, you are," I replied. "You're _my_ baby."

"You're _my_ baby, _too_," Mac said when he walked into the bathroom with the bedclothes in his arms and put them in the hamper. Dylan chuckled and gave us both a 'kissy'.

When I called and told him the good news, he actually dropped the phone. There was a clatter the second after the words, "I'm pregnant" left my lips.

"Mac? Mac, are you there?" I asked frantically. I thought he passed out. There was some scrambling going on at the other end and then I heard him again.

"Yes, love, I'm here," he said breathlessly. We laughed and I waited for him to collect himself. "Wow… wow."

"Rendered speechless, I could hear," I joked. And he was. With Dylan, he found out about the pregnancy in the worst circumstances. I don't think he knows how to react to it properly – _if_ there is such a thing. "Mac, by the time I go back there, I'd be at least four months along."

I listened to his evening breathing. I could almost hear him thinking. Then he finally spoke, "That's okay. As long as both of you come home safe – that's fine by me. After all, there's another five months until… you know."

"I give birth, you can say it," I laughed. I wish I could see his face. Everything's so new to him.

"Yeah, until you give birth… to our _baby_," he finished. "I can't wait, Stella." He tried to mask a sob but I caught it nonetheless. "I wish you were here, you know."

"Me, too," I admitted. My hand was on my still flat tummy; Dylan was sleeping already in the other room with Blue by his bed. When we fly over to New York, we're taking our dog with us. "Dylan says he loves you."

"Tell him that I love him, too." We were silent for a while, just there with our phones against our ears. Then he said, "Love you." I don't think I could ever get tired of that.

June seemed so far away but it finally came. Some of my graduating students were teary-eyed during their commencement activity when I gave an address. It also served as my thank you and farewell speech. After the event, my students all gathered in one of the dorms and gave me a proper send-off. Even Dylan had a special part in the party.

When the time came when we were finally leaving, Andrea and Margot were crying so much that Dylan was bawling on the way to the airport. He almost didn't want to go. Joel was the only one sane in the car – oh, and Blue. "I'll miss you, Dylan," Margot sniffed, holding on to his little chubby body. "We'll see each other again, won't we?"

Dylan only nodded and cried harder. They treated each other like siblings. It was heartbreaking to see them that way. Andrea on the other hand couldn't let go of my hand. It reminded me of the time at the orphanage, the nuns were packing what little she had and handing them to the family who adopted her. She said she didn't want to leave without me but we both knew that she had to.

"Make sure he takes care of you, okay?" she sobbed against my neck. "If he doesn't, I don't care if he's a cop I'll…"

"Alright, Andrea stop that," Joel chuckled, pulling her off me then she continued crying on his chest. He turned to me and shook my hand, "Stay in touch, you hear me? We'll be saving off next year's Spring Break for your church wedding."

Our plane started to board and then it was time for us to go. I gathered Dylan up and my hand-carry and bade them goodbye. Margot was holding Dylan's hand until the last minute. In the plane, he was sobbing against my chest. But when I reminded him of why we are going to New York. He held tightly to my hand and tried to smile.

The whole flight he was asleep; crying wore him out. When we arrived finally, Mac was waiting for us there. Dylan ran over to him right away and gave him a hug. I waited for him to walk towards me, "Detective Taylor," I said.

"_Missus _Taylor," he said, emphasizing the first word. Dylan was hugging his father's legs and looking up at us. We looked at each other's eyes for a long time as people walked past us in the fairly crowded airport. I was fighting back tears… _finally; I'm back in New York City._ "Let's go home?" he asked.

"Home!" our son cried out. Mac collected him in his arms as he helped me with the luggage. Dylan continued to say in a singsong voice, "Home, home, home…" swaying his head from side to side.

In the car, we were still quite silent, sans Dylan's babbling. Mac was holding my hand all throughout the ride. My other hand was resting against my growing belly, four months along and barely noticeable. But I knew that the tight shirt I was wearing was enough to show Mac that I was indeed pregnant.

"Daddy," Dylan said from his car seat, bouncing Mr. Cheeks up and down, "I'mma have a baby sishter or bwother. Mommy's pregnuts." I have to stifle a full-blown laugh. I told him that I am pregnant with his little sibling but not exactly how I became that way. I looked at Mac and found that he was also chuckling.

"I know, baby," he said with a little laugh, "I know." He looked back at me when we approached a red light and gave me a kiss. "_I know_," he repeated against my ear.

Our moment was interrupted when we heard Dylan laughing. We looked at him and found that Blue was licking his little toes. He had removed his sneakers inside the car and now, our dog was 'counting' his toes by licking them. At that, we realized fully that this would be a start of a beautiful life.

When I first met Mac Taylor, he was a happy and contented man with a beautiful wife, great job and satisfying life. I remember being jealous of that… and of Claire for having such a person for a husband. I used to admire them from afar – how they look at each other, talk; I saw how she made him feel alive. Then somewhere there, I recalled saying to myself that someday, I want a part of that too.

We became colleagues then eventually, we became best of friends. We began spending time with each other after work, drinking, having meals with the missus… our just plain talking after a long and tiring shift. I was pleased with having just those moments with Mac – just the two of us and a pitcher of beer or water.

The more time we spent time with each other, the more I fell for him. Him falling for me was wishful thinking. He was happily married and Claire was the perfect wife. He had all he could ask for and there was no room for me in that ideal panoramic picture. But all of that came to a sudden halt on September 11.

Mac leaned on me for strength; something I had little of at that time but still, I remained at his side. He was my rock and I was his. We survived that chapter of our lives together only to start the next one apart. I was happy, though, that he was standing back up on his feet, party because of me. I kept on egging him to go dating again but it seemed like he's married to his work. But because of work, he found new love. Yet, it didn't last.

Just when I thought he gave up altogether on love… he managed to see that I was alive. Even I haven't realized that I was just waiting. I thought I was just there for him and nothing else. Never did I think that there was something more waiting for me.

I can honestly say that I have always loved Mac Taylor. That's why I said that I would take whatever Mac Taylor you have. He seemed so far away and I thought he was too much for me; that I didn't deserve him. Yet, here I am… sitting beside him in the car, pregnant with his second child, his ring on my finger and our eldest son singing away in the backseat.

"Mommy, Daddy," he said.

"Yes, Dylan?" I answered, turning slightly to look at him. It's times like these when I was thankful of New York traffic. Mac was looking at him too.

He was silent for a few seconds, just gazing at us with his sweet smile. I could see that he was happy. "I love you," he said.

I couldn't help but sob. I reached out and took his smaller hand in mine and said, "We love you, too, Dylan."

_Yes, this is going to be a beautiful life._

**CSINYCSINYCSINYCSINYCSINY**

_I wish I could thank every single one of you – at least have a message for each one but I think "thank you very much" sums up everything. Thanks for staying with me on this writing experience. Thank you for loving/liking Dylan. Thanks for encouraging me to go on when things got a bit stalled and/or boring. Thank you for testing the T-rating with me. Thank you for listing this story (and my profile) in your alerts and favorites. _

_Sorry if it did become boring halfway through. Sorry if I failed to rise up to your expectations. Sorry if I didn't reply to some of the reviews. And sorry… if I took too long to upload this baby up._

_So I guess this is it. I'm closing the hardbound cover of yet another SMACked fic._

_Thank you and I love you all!_

_cate._


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